Madness and Hope
by E.M.K.81
Summary: Summary: Leroux-based. Erik decides he can't let Christine go and keeps Raoul as a hostage so Christine will not dare oppose his wishes. How can anyone keep sane in these circumstances?
1. Chapter 1

_**Madness and Hope**_

 _Summary: Leroux-based. Erik decides he can't let Christine go and keeps Raoul as a hostage so Christine will not dare oppose his wishes. How can anyone keep sane in these circumstances?_

 _Sorry, English is not my first language so please excuse the many mistakes I make. I hope my story is legible nevertheless._

"Erik, I have turned the scorpion!" Christine cried. A dreadful moment nothing happend, the Daroga, the Vicomte and Christine waiting desperately for what was about to happen. Would the explosion destroy the Opera or what else would happen? Erik, who had already been reaching for the grasshopper, trembled so hard he couldn't stand upright any longer and sank to his knees. "I love you", he moaned, as the hiss of the water flowing to the cellar, destroying the gunpowder, began.

Erik buried his face in his hands, as he moaned: "O God, thank you! Christine, thank you!" The girl couldn't look at him any more. She simply couldn't stand the sight of the man who just seconds ago threatened to kill all people in the opera house - and the house was sold out with the full cast on the stage in this Mayerbeer opera - weeping and bemoaning his cruel fate. But she didn't dare tell him that, she didn't dare go away, she just stood there, staring at the door to the torture chamber waiting what was about to happen.

Somehow Erik must have sensed her discomfort because he left her alone as he went to the kitchen. "Christine, turn off the water!" Raoul screamed as the waterlevel increased and water started to flow into the torture chamber. Christine had no idea how to turn off the water. Now the Persian started shouting: "Erik! I know you can hear me! I saved you, remember? Turn off the water! Erik!" The torture chamber was flooded with water and it became harder and harder for Raoul and the Persian to get air.

Christine ran to Erik, who was sitting in the kitchen, drinking a glass of water and reading a newspaper as if nothing at all had happened. "Erik, please turn off the water, they are drowning", Christine exclaimed. Erik didn't even look at her as he told her there was no reason to save anyone of them for she didn't need a second fiancee and he didn't need a friend who would stab his back. "You can't kill them!" Christine begged. "My dear, they killed themselves. They were dead the moment they choose to fight me", Erik said calmly, this time looking up from his newspaper. "Please, please save them! I will do everything you ask me to do, everything! I will be a good wife to you, I will fulfill all wifely duties, all of them, if you let them live", Christine begged, sinking to her knees before him, putting her armes around his knees. Erik stared at her in shock for a moment, then he felt the warmth of her touch, of her armes around his knees, her face resting on his lap. He had to get away from her or he would not be able to think in a few moments. He stood up but Christine did not let go of his legs, her face only inches away from his upper legs.

Erik couldn't describe the feeling this caused in him. His body reacted against his will and told him exactly what to ask of her in return for the lives of the two men. The tall man ground his teeth, fighting to control himself. "Very well", he hissed, "You have your deal." At his words the girl released her grasp on him and backed away as if she had just noticed that she was touching something awful. Erik felt a pain in his chest, a physical pain, as if she had stabbed him but he fought to controll the rage that was already forming in him. He wouldn't allow his bad temper to ruin everything he had fought for so hard and he had even taken the risk of eternal damnation to get her - he would not risk loosing her now.

Erik went to the LouisPhilippe Room and turned the scorpion again, which stopped the flow of the water and activated the pumps which pumped the water back into the lake. Erik didn't wait until the pumps finished but opened the door and rushed inside the torture chamber, which was dark exept the light that fell through the door from the LouisPhilippe Room. He found the Persian next to the trapdoor and Raoul near the iron tree. Both of them unconscious and Erik was tempted to check the Persian first and save only him but he knew Christine would never forgive him if he left the Vicomte to die. So he went to the boy, turned him to his side and tried to find a pulse. That wasn't a problem and as soon as Erik tried to lift the boy he retched and spit water, then took a deep breath but didn't wake up. Convinced that the boy was breathing regularly and would survive, Erik let him lie on his side and turned his attention to the Persian.

The Persian wasn't breathing and as Erik turned him to his side, water came from his mouth and nose but he didn't start breathing like the Vicomte. Erik turned the old man to his back and bent down over him. A horrible fear hit him, that the only victim of his violent madness might be his poor righteous friend. "I'm sorry", Erik whispered, but he didn't allow himself to moan as long as there was hope. Eriks fingers found the pulse at the Persians throad and Erik could feel a weak and unregular pulse rate. So there was a little bit of life left in the body. Erik knew what to do. He took off his mask and bent down to try some sort of rescue breathing as far as he knew it. Erik had never done this before but he had seen people rescue drowned people by breathing for them. First he was too nervous to do any good but after a few tries he saw the chest of his friend rise as he forced the air in his lungs. Erik had to take a deep breath himself and tried again. His friends chest rose and fell, but he didn't start breathing on his own. The pulse was still there, so Erik wouldn't give up.

It seemed to last for hours that Erik tried to breathe for his friend and finally felt lightheaded and nauseous. He knew he wouldn't be able to keep that up for much more. That moment the Persian resisted, didn't take the air in but gagged and retched. Erik turned his friend over to his side and watched him carefully bringing up all the water he had swallowed. When the Persian took a deep breath, Erik allowed himself to relax and in the next moment he found himself lying on the wet floor between the two other men. A shade fell into the room and only now he realized Christine standing in the door, watching him.

Erik tried to get up, but slipped and fell, then he somehow managed to crawl out of the torture chamber. As he forced himself to stand up, the nausea becaume too much for him and he retched, but since he hadn't eaten anything in days he only brought up a little bit of water he had taken before. Christine stared at him. Erik felt very weak, but he couldn't allow himself to break down now. If he wanted to save the Vicomte and the Persian he had to get them out of their wet clothes or they would catch an inflamation of the lungs after all the water they had inhaled. "Help me, Christine, will you?" he asked. The girl nodded: "Tell me what to do?"

"Get some blankets an two of my nightshirts", he instructred, then went back to the torture chamber to carry both men to the next room before he locked the door savely. "We have to undress them and dry them. Find some towels, will you?" When Christine came back with the towels she found that Erik had alreade undressed his friend. She turned away so she wouldn't have to see the naked body of a man. Erik didn't seem to care about modesty right now, he was too busy drying them and finally he even asked Christine to help him get two unconscious men dressed, since he couldn't do that alone.

When the Persian was finally tugged in in the bed and the Vicomte on the couch, Erik allowed himself to take a seat and relax. Christine started to clean the water from the floor and brought the wet clothes to the bathroom. Erik was too exhausted to even think about helping her, he slumped in his chair and closed his eyes to get a few precious moments rest before he had to deal with the intruders again.

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 _Thank you for reading and please review!_


	2. Chapter 2

**Madness and Hope**

Christine found all three men peacefully asleep. She decided to cover Erik with a blanket too, so he wouldn't be cold. Then she just sat there, trying not to think about the future that lay in store. She had agreed to be a real wife for Erik and was terrified he would force her to keep that promise. She would have to let him touch her, kiss her and even make love to her, something she dreaded beyond everything else. She couldn't even imagine what it would be like to be taken by a man, she shuddered with disgust at the mere thought of that. She had never desired any man exept the handsome, gentle Raoul and now it would be Erik, the ugly, creepy, violent Erik to take her - and she wouldn't have any right to deny him!

"Christine?" she heard Raouls voice from the couch. She rushed to his side, embracing and kissing him. "O Raoul, my love, how do you feel?" she whispered, fearing to wake Erik. "I... I don't know... I'm so tired..." Raoul answered, then asked what had happened and Christine told him everything she knew.

"He really is asleep", Raoul said, as Erik didn't move in his chair. Christine nodded. "Quick, get me a knife or something like that", Raoul said, "I'll deal with that monster!" "No, Raoul, you will not kill him", Christine objected. "But he is a murderer and a kidnapper! He wouldn't hesitate to blow up the opera house in the middle of a performance!" Christine stated firmely: "No, HE wouldn't. But he promised to let both of you go free and I do trust him to keep his promise. So there is no need for you to stoop so low as to kill him in his sleep."

That moment Erik stirred slowly and Raoul was terrified, what he might have heard. But Erik was calm as he asked Raoul how he felt and gave him some tea, then telling him to go back to sleep. There must have been something in the tea because Raoul really fell asleep again just after he finished the cup of tea. Erik turned to Christine: "My darling, you look tired. You should get some rest, maybe you go to sleep in the music room? I do not want you to exhaust yourself. I will care for them." Christine did obey but she was sure she wouldn't be able to rest after all she had gone through.

Erik returned to his chair and stared at the two sleeping men before him. Never had he dreamed it would turn out like that, never! He had been convinced that either he or these two or maybe all of them along with a few thousand other people would die. Erik closed his eyes as he let the thought to sink into his brain which hopefully was back to its normal function. A few thousand people would have died in the explosion. A few THOUSAND. Erik shuddered at the thought as he remembered how close he had been to the grasshopper. He was a murderer but a few THOUSAND lifes were far too much to be on his conscience. He would have gone to hell, no doubt of that. Right now he felt relieved, he hadn't killed one man this night, but he knew that this wasn't his doing but hers. He was more than ever convinced that if there was any hope for salvation for him it could only be with her help.

The Persian woke and found himself in a bed, Erik sitting on the bed beside him. "How do you feel, you booby?" Erik teased with a friendly smile. "Sick" was the only reply he got. "You shouldn't have risked your life", Erik said, "How often did I tell you to stay away?" The Daroga didn't reply, he was too weary to count their quarrels, there had been too many of them. Erik shrugged and went to the kitchen to fetch a cup of tea for his friend who refused to drink it before Erik himself had taken a sip from the cup. Erik huffed at the other man's request but complied. "Why would I save you only posion you? I might be crazy but I am not stupid", Erik rebuked. He didn't tell that there was a sleep-inducing drug attached to the tea, a drug Erik had used on himself far too often to block his nightmares, it would take a far higher dose to affect him anyway therefor he was sure he wouldn't even notice the small sip he had taken.

Erik decided to bring the Daroga back to his home, but first he had to lock the Vicomte up somewhere. There was the old Communards dungeon and it would serve his purpose well. Erik just took Raoul and dragged him to the dungeon, where he locked him up. Then he decided that the Vicomte needed his clothes, some blankets, a mattress and a bucket and maybe a bottle of water and some food. Erik went back to his flat to fetch the things and brought them down to the dungeon. Raoul was awake, shivering in the cold.

"What are you doing to me?" Raoul inquired weakly. "Keeping you hostage", Erik answered seriously, "I promised to set you free but I will not risk Christine going back on her promise. No, you will stay here until after our marriage. Is there anything you need, Monsieur, anything I haven't already thought of?" "Yes, it is so dark", Raoul pleaded, "Please leave me a lamp or at least a candle and a watch so I know the time." "Very well, I'll get you a lamp and matches and a watch if you insist. You like something to read? Reading helps to shorten the time." Erik went back again to fetch an oil lamp, matches and a few books which he gave to Raoul. "Do not overexercise yourself now. You should try to rest as much as you can now. I'll bring you lunch when it is twelve o'clock."

Raoul was left alone in the dark room with the metal bars. Three walls were stone, one was made of stone and metal bars and the door was made of bars too. It was depressing and cold and so Raoul had no choice but wrap himself in the blankets, lit the oil lamp and wait for whatever was to come.

Erik would have loved a chance to get some sleep but he had to drag the Daroga, who was still asleep, to the small door in the Rue Scribe, where he fetched a cab and told the driver where to go. Erik could only hope that in this early morning hour the driver would mistake them for two drunkards on their way home. That would at least explain why the Daroga wasn't able to walk on his own legs and Erik had to drag him along. The driver even helped getting the daroga to the door of his house and rang the bell. Darius opened. The faithful servant had been worried about his master's fate knowing all to well what it meant to fight against the infamous Phantom of the Opera alias Trapdoor-Lover alias Angel of Doom.

Erik returned to the opera house just before sunrise. Christine was awake and close to panic because she had found herself alone in the flat. "I'm sorry", Erik greeted her wearily, "I should have left you a note. Please, my darling, I am too exhausted to take care of you now. Please allow me a few hours sleep and then I will prepare lunch for us."

Erik slept a few hours, but it wasn't a good sleep for he was plagued by a terrible nightmare. The nightmare showed him the situation in the Louis Philippe Room, with him and Christine standing at the mantlepice looking at the scorpion and the grasshopper. But in his dream Christine did not turn any of the figures, leaving it to him to turn the grasshopper. Then everything burst into flames but there was no explosion. The flames consumed Christine, burning her, deforming her until she was nothing than black bones. Erik screamed and tried to turn the scorpion, tried to get away, tried to extinguish the flames but he couldn't move, he was locked into his body which had become stone. He woke screaming and bathed in sweat.

When he sat up, he noticed that the lights were turned on in his bedroom and Christine was standing next to his coffin. She was pale and lokked at least ten years older than a week before. "Are you in pain?" Christine asked worriedly. Erik shook his head, then touched his face with his fingers to make sure the mask was in place and she wouldn't have to endure the sight of his face. "Just a nightmare... don't worry, it is nothing..." Erik assured her despite the fact that he longed to touch her, to hold her, to find comfort in her embrace. He didn't trust himself that he would be contend with an innocent touch, he was afraid of the darker desires which lurked within him and which he hoped Christine would never find out about. She was a good, decent girl and he wouldn't dare soil her with his filth. Never.

Erik climbed out of his coffin and stretched, faking a yawn. "I'll take a bath and then I'll fix lunch for us", he stated. Christine just nodded and returned to her room.

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 _Thank you for reading and please review! I'm sorry if there are mistakes, English isn't my first language._


	3. Chapter 3

**Madness and Hope**

Erik went to his cellar storeroom. It was a perfect room for keeping things cool, he even had blocks of ice in there to keep the temperature as low as possible. As he fetchted some vegetables he noticed that there was no meat left. What a pity, he would have to go outside to do some shopping. He hated to go shopping but he had no choice at all, so he told Christine that he had forgotten to buy food and would hurry.

So he put on his fake nose, cloak and hat and took one of his favourite passages though the cellar of the opera house where he had installed a secret door that allowed him entrance to the catacombs of Paris. The door was a very good idea because in the catacombs homeless people sought shelter and all sorts of minor criminals used it to hide temporary from the policemen and Erik didn't want all that filth in his opera house but he didn't want to kill them so he just shut them out.

He took a corridor to the cellar of a block of flats. When he had discovered one entrance to the catacombes was in that building he rented the cellar as a store room. Of course he didn't use it as store room but had some clever traps there which should keep unwanted visitors from finding the hidden door to the catacombs. In the ground floor there was a grocery of sorts where one could buy anything depending on the price one offered. The shopkeeper knew Erik as one of his best customers and never asked his name or anything else. As long as Erik paid well he got everything he wanted, be it food, clothes, weapons, jewelry or whatever. In the rooms over the grocery was a brothel maskerading as an inn but everyone knew exactly what kind of meat they were selling.

Erik went to the shop to buy some meat, bread, spices, salt, chocolates, a bottle of wine and a bunch of flowers. Then he headed back to his house at the lake. Christine was in the kitchen and had begun cleaning the vegetables. "Thank you, my dear", Erik greeted her as friendly as he could manage, "but I can take care of that. No need to ruin your delicate fingers with lowly work." Christine didn't answer. She just laid everything down and left the kitchen. Erik wondered when she would tire of beeing silent and start talking to him again.

When Erik set the table Christine asked, why he had three sets there and not two. "My dear, we are expecting a guest", Erik said with a cheerful voice, "Your friend Raoul is visting us." Christine was confused. "I thought you set him free?" she inquired. "I promised to set him free as you promised to become my wife. Are you my wife yet, did we receive the sacrament of matrimony already? Padon me if my memory fails me, maybe I am demented already but I cannot remember anything of our wedding?" Christine paled visibly. "You mean you keep him hostage?" she asked terrified.

"Hostage is such a bad word, my darling, no, I prefer to call him guest and I hope you agree that we both will tread him as our dear guest and have a nice lunch with him", Erik retorted. Christine only nodded, not daring to say anything that would upset Erik. She had seen what he was capable of and had no intention to take any risk. What a wonderful prospect for their marriage - she would have to walk on eggshells all of her life, always careful not to upset her insane monster of a husband.

Erik went to the dungeon to fetch Raoul. He had to blindfold him so the boy wouldn't see the door to Eriks flat. Raoul did not dare resist for he knew that he was at Eriks mercy. Even if he had been able to overpower the taller man he would never find his way through the labyrinth and the traps to the flat where he knew Christine was still held and then out of the opera house.

Erik gave Raoul the choclate and the flowers and told him to be a nice guest and give it to the housewife. "I beg your pardon?" Raoul asked, not sure what Erik expected of him and Erik patiently repeated the words for him, slowly, as if speaking to a stupid child. Raoul promised to behave like a gentlemen, not knowing what Erik was up to now. Erik led Raoul to a small anteroom and carefully closed the door before he allowed the younger man to take of the blindfold. Then Erik went to the flat, only to cheerfully call his wife and open the door for Raoul to come in. "How nice of you to come to visit us!" Erik exclaimed in a voice even Raoul would have thought sincerely happy, "Christine, darling, look who is coming to have lunch with us!" Christine came as she was told to and greeted Raoul like a housewife would greet a good friend of the family. Raoul gave her the flowers and the chocolate and thanked her for the invitation. Their performance was far worse than Eriks, no one would be fooled by their words but Erik pretended not to notice.

They sat at the table, all three of them and Erik was doing his best to entertain "his wife" and "his guest" during lunch, serving the courses and the proper drinks, telling witty anecdotes and some stories which might be true or might just be a very well told lie. Christine and Raoul tried their best to play along since both knew that they couldn't escape the house even if they were able to overpower Erik. That was a very frightful thought because what would happen to them, if Erik fell ill, had an accident or was killed? They weren't sure they would find a way out of this house and the labyrith. Their lives were depending on Erik and there was nothing they could do.

Of course Erik noticed their discomfort but he refused to acknowledge that and continued to play his role as if something dreadful would happen if he slipped.

After lunch Erik invited Raoul to prolong his visit and stay for dinner. Raoul didn't dare refuse and accepted. Erik spend most of the afternoon playing the piano and Raoul and Christine listening. They sat next to each other at the couch but didn't dare talk to each other for they knew Eriks phenomenal sense of hearing. They had no choice but to humor the monster and play along his absurd game.

After dinner Erik took Raoul back to the dungeon, taking a fresh bottle of water, an extra blanket and a fresh bucket with him. "I'm sorry for the discomfort, I haven't had time to prepare the guestroom", Erik said apologetically, "I'll take the used bucket, thank you. Don't worry, I think I can build a little restroom in the next prison cell and break the wall between them. Do you prefer gas light or electric light?" "I prefer to be free", Raoul stated. Erik chuckled: "Yes, my friend, of course. Erik has been a terrible host and is really sorry for your inconvenience. Erik will make up in the future, I can assure you. Erik will start to work right away tomorrow, although I am afraid I won't be able to stem the walls to lay the conduit, I will fix them at the walls. Don't worry we can conceal them with the furniture."

"Furniture?" Raoul asked, frightened at the mere thought of staying in that dungeon for an indefinite time. Erik answered: "Erik would be heartbroken if you would think ill of him, for you are his wifes best friend and therefor Erik hopes you will come to accept him as a friend too. Erik can be a very entertaining host, a very nice gentleman. You will see, you will want for nothing here."

Raoul was absolutely convinced by now that Erik had gone completely crazy. Was it possible that Erik had mentally escaped into some weird fantasy and wasn't able to see the reality of the situation? Would that make Erik even more dangerous? Or would that be their way out of this? If he played along and managed to convince Erik that he truly would befriend him, maybe Erik would agree to let them make a trip upstairs, where they had a chance to escape.

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 _Has Erik gone crazy or is this all part of his scheme? Raoul and Christine really have a problem because they do not know how to open even one of Eriks doors or how to escape the labyrinth with the traps. They are at Erik's mercy and he loves it to the hilt._

 _Thank you for reading. Please review._


	4. Chapter 4

**Madness and Hope**

The following days passed in the same weird way. In the morning Erik and Christine took their breakfast together, then Erik told his wife he had to go to work and went away, only to work at the dungeon. He really kept his word and build a complete bathroom, if a small one with mismatched furniture but there was a sink, a bathtub and a toilet. There was only cold water but that was better than no water at all. Next he asked Raoul to help him breaking the wall between the "guestroom" and the bathroom and Raoul had no choice but helping him, always hoping Erik would come to his senses and stop behaving like a construction worker always asking "Monsieur le Comte" where he wanted which piece of furniture. Raoul felt absolutely odd playing along but he told himself that he really had no choice because if he would upset Erik, who knew what this madman would do to him or to Christine? Raoul told himself as long as he kept Erik occupied, Christine would have some reprieve.

Then Erik went to prepare dinner, went back to lead Raoul to his house and then greeted him as if Raouls "visit" was a pleasant surprise. Erik even bothered to make sure Raoul would have flowers or choclate or a botte of wine as a present for his host and in the first weeks Christine and Raoul tried their best to play along, always in the hope that Erik might be mollified and would grant them a little bit of freedom.

And really, after one month Erik started to leave Raoul and Christine alone together in the Louis Philippe Room. First it was a few minutes, where Erik just went to the kitchen to fetch something, then Erik asked Raoul to keep his wife company while he had to go to his banker or go shopping.

Christine was the first to risk speaking openly about their situation and not pretending she was a good housewife and Raoul her guest. "Raoul, did he harm you?" she asked worriedly. "If taking me hostage doesn't count, no. He made my prison cell quite... aceptable, I even have a bathroom and electric light now. He gives me books and paper and even offered to get me a pet. I have no idea what he is up to. Now, did he hurt you?" "No, he didn't. He behaves like a perfect gentleman, never even touching me. But I wonder when he will hold me to my promise."

Raoul shuddered at the mere thought of this. "I hope never!" he exclaimed.  
"I hope soon, because then he has to let you free", Christine retorted.  
"No, I wouldn't leave you in the hands of this madman! I'd rather stay here myself!"  
"O Raoul, be reasonable. What do you think you could possibly do? No, I will keep my promise and marry Erik and you will be free to live your life."

Only a few days later Christine decided to ask Erik when they were going to be married. "Such a darling, my Christine, can't wait to get married to her beloved Erik", Erik said and Christine wasn't sure if he was mocking her or if he was serious.

She decided to humor him: "Yes, I can't wait to get married. You see, it is not proper to live in your house unmarried."  
"Yes, yes, yes, I agree. But we need to discuss the wedding and then making preparations. Let's start right away: Which church do you prefer?"

When Christine didn't answer, Erik gave his opinion: "I always dreamed of a wedding in the Madeleine since the first time I saw you. But I do not insist if you prefer another church - maybe Notre Dame? O, yes, Notre Dame would be great. Did you see it? A really worthy place for our wedding, it will cost a fortune as donation to the church but I am sure we can get the Notre Dame. Did you ever hear their organ? It is truly magnificent!"

Christine objected: "I always wanted a wedding in a very small humble chapel." She could tell by Eriks eyes that he was disappointed. He stared at his hands, then thought about it and finally he gave in with a small disappointed sigh: "You are right, my darling, it is just my childish wish and we better ignore it. You see I am fond of grandeur and decorum, but that really doesn't matter. The only thing that matters is that there will be a wedding, even if it would be in the most humble chapel. Your wish is my command. You will not wear a dress befitting a queen, will you? What dress would you like?"

"A chaste one, if you please, and certainly not the one I wore THAT night."  
"But it would be a white one or do you want another colour?"  
Black would be fitting, she thought but she bit her lips not to let these words pass them. Then she said: "I am a virgin so it can be white."

Erik clapped his hands. "Wonderful! I'll get one for you, a modest one, a chaste one as you wish. You will look beautiful nevertheless. I guess you prefer low heel shoes?" Christine nodded. Of course he knew what she liked to wear. "I'll wear a black suit", Erik continued, "Do you think a white mask would do? Or a black one? Maybe even a golden one?"  
"White, as it is your wedding."  
"Save guess. Then I can start prepairing everything tomorrow."

The next day Erik asked the Comte de Chagny to keep his wife company while he had to run some errands. "Why do you keep calling me Comte? I am a Vicomte."

"No, since your brother is dead you are the Comte de Chagny."

Raoul screamed: "My brother - dead? No! No, it can't be!"  
"You didn't know?" Erik asked astonished "He died about a month ago. I am deeply sorry for your loss."  
"Why? How?" Raoul couldn't accept that his dear brother was dead.

"Well, how should I know?" Erik asked softly, "I read it in the newspaper. They are searching for you so I suggest that you write a letter to your lawyer to claim your heiritage."

Raoul wasn't able to do anything, he just sat there, crying. Erik stood up and turned to Christine: "Can I leave it to you to comfort your friend? I will be back at seven o'clock in the evening." Christine just nodded, not knowing what to say. She pulled Raoul in her embrace, this time not caring what Erik would think about that but Erik stayed amazingly calm as if he hadn't even noticed, only the tears in his eyes did betray his feelings but Christine couldn't pity him now, after all Erik hat done to them, she was not able to feel anything for him, neither hate nor pity and of course not love not even the slightest liking.

Erik really left the house, he had to check his labyrinth and his traps, he had neglected this duty far too long and he knew that the Daroga wouldn't just give up. As he suspected he found the Daroga sneaking around at one entrance to the underground lake. Erik decided to give his old friend a little reminder to stay away from the cellars, so he sneaked up behind him and threw his lasso around the Persians neck, but did not tighten the noose. The Persian gasped in shock and stood petrified. "Your hand at the level of your eyes... Hello my dear old friend", Erik purred, "I suppose nearly dying in my torture chamber didn't teach you to heed my warnings, did it? Now tell me, my good old friend, what am I to do to make you understand that you have to take better care of your health?"

Suddenly the Persian spun around and punched Erik in the face. His anger fueled his speed and strength and Erik hadn't been able to block the punch or get away completely, nevertheless Erik had tried to duck down and the Persian hit his forehead instead of his chin or nose. Erik stumbled backwards, blood tickling down from the fresh cut just over his right eye. The Persian used the moment to grab Erik at the collar and throw him against the next wall.

"Murderer! Where are Christine and Raoul?" the Persian roared.  
Erik tried to clear his vision and control the sudden nausea. He hoped he didn't suffer a concussion. Since when had the Daroga become that agile? "Murderer?" Erik asked innocently.  
"Don't you dare give me that look!" the Persian demanded, "Don't even think of it! You know exactly what I am talking about!"  
Erik shook his head which turned out to be a very bad idea for it worsened the nausea. "No, I have no idea. Please enlighten me - whom did I kill and when?"  
"The Comte the Chagny! Do not pretend you don't remember the siren!" the Persian acccused him furiously and slapped Eriks face so hard, he lost the mask.

"The Comte de Chagny?" Erik paled visibly. "I had no idea... I... I thought I was going mad and suffering hallucinations... That was the Comte de Chagny?"  
The Persian loosened his grip on Erik and took a step back. "You really didn't know, did you? You just killed a man and never bothered to find out who he was!"  
Erik sat down, leaning against the wall. His head was spinning and he tried to figure out how to get out of this. "The siren sung and... it was an accident..."  
"Accident?" the Daroga huffed "It was cold blooded murder!"  
Erik knew he couldn't deny it any longer, but he wouldn't give in without another try. "No, I was just protecting myself and my home. I really had no idea who he was, but to be honest, if I had known, I would have killed him anyway, but I still consider it more self-defence than murder."  
The Persian stood very still, deep in thought. Then he asked with much self-control as not to show his anger: "Where are Christine and Raoul?"  
"They are save", Erik answered, "They are my guests and I care well for them."  
"You took them hostage?" the Daroga asked, sickened by just how low Erik had allowed himself to sink.

"Well... yes and no. Yes, Raoul is a hostage but Christine is my betrothed and we are going to be married. After the wedding I will release Raoul." Erik finally admitted.  
The Daroga shuddered at the thought of it. "That is low, even for you. Erik, I implore you, cease this madness! You will only cause the girl and yourself even more pain. For your own sake, stop that!"  
Erik sighed. "We have been down that path a month ago, my dear friend, and now that I finally gained the upper hand I certainly won't give up."  
"You lost every right to call me a friend! I am no friend of yours! I regret saving your life more than anything else in my life, saving you was a terrible sin and I will burn in hell for that!" the Daroga spat and Erik flinched. The Persians words hurt him more than the punch had, they cut deep into Eriks soul and for the first time since that terrible night Erik couldn't lie to himself and had to admit at least to himself that he had done wrong. His conscience always woke far too late to keep him from committing a sin but then it would haunt him for the rest of his life.

"I am sorry" Erik choked, struggling to hold back his tears.  
"O please spare me your tears of self-pity" the Daroga berated him "I don't buy it, because if you really felt any remorse you would set your hostages free at once."  
Erik stumbled to his feet, he couldn't allow this conversation to go on any longer, afraid of the pain it would cause him. Only the Daroga knew how to reach his conscience and when he did it was always unimaginable painful. "What are you going to do?" Erik asked, reaching for his mask.  
"I would love to kill you right here and now, but that might turn out to be fatal to your hostages, wouldn't it? I already told the police everything I knew but no one believed me, I was treated like a madman. There is nothing I can do right now, but I assure you that I will keep trying. I am not talking about revenge but I will do everything in my power to stop you." the Daroga said firmly.  
Erik steadied himself with one hand at the wall. "Erik does not wish to be your enemy." he stated sadly "Erik just wanted to be loved by at least one human beeing. Is that so much to ask? Daroga, please tell me, is that really such an outrageous wish that it can never be granted? O how I wish I had never been born or died long ago. Maybe you are right, you shouldn't have saved me twenty years ago, you should have left the monster to the tortures, maybe even flogged him to increase his pain. Erik is nothing but a twisted monster and deserves nothing but pain, but Erik can't take it any more. I simply CANNOT release them, I would die without Christine. Do you understand what that means? I am already damned, I will never go to heaven for me there will be eternal penance and I cannot face that now. I need a little bit of happiness to soften the unendurable pain, only one moment of happiness. Can't you understand that?"

The Persian said nothing at first. He knew Erik and he couldn't help but pity the broken man he saw now before him. His reply was soft: "I do not want to be your enemy and when you choose to ask my forgiveness I will grant it, but you have to stop that vicious deed you are commiting. There will be no happiness for you in a forced marriage only more suffering. Can't you see that?"  
Erik shook his head, wiping away his tears. "I will be contend with an illusion." he stated sadly.

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 _Thank you for reading and please review. I know my English is bad but I hope you like the story nevertheless._


	5. Chapter 5

**Madness and Hope**

Raoul, who loved his brother dearly, was heartbroken over the loss. Christine took him in her arms, trying to offer all the comfort she could. They sat on the couch for hours, neither of them speaking, only clinging to each other as a drowning man would cling to a life line.

The door opened and Erik came in, he walked with a stoop, pressing a handkerchief to his forehead, blood on his bare face. When he saw Christine sitting on the couch, Raoul lying with his head in her lap, weeping and bemoaning his brothers death he turned and left the room guilt-ridden. He couldn't bare the sight of the young man breaking down with grief. He went to his bathroom to clean his wound with cold water. It didn't help for he was still bleeding, blood dripping from his face on his suit and his shirt, when a noise behind him made him jump.

Christine stood there, her face white, shuddering, but she stayed. "Are you hurt?" she asked worriedly.  
Erik didn't know how to respond. He took a towel and pressed it against his face, so she wouldn't have to see it. "It's just a small cut, don't worry. How is Raoul?"  
"Half crazy over the loss of his brother", Christine answered and as she noticed how Erik flinched at her words, she inquired: "You do not happen to know how he died?"  
Erik started to tremble, not able to say anything, not to her, not now. Suddenly the nausea hit him with full force and he bent over his sink, retching. He could see Christine retreating, her hand pressed over her mouth as if she was going to be sick too.

Only in the evening Erik asked shyly if they would like some soup he had prepared. Erik now wore his mask with a bandage beneath it, covering his wound. "I'm not hungry", Raoul said.  
"Yes, I understand that, but you really should try some soup. If you starve now, it won't bring your brother back." Erik gave his advice as if he had been a fatherly friend. Raoul nodded, not knowing what else he could do.

They had their dinner in utter silence, none of them daring to talk. Erik had to force himself to eat, he felt as if he had stomach cramps. Finally he asked softly if Raoul or Christine would like some wine or even stronger drinks. When they did not answer he went to fetch one of his finest bottles, opened it and poured them drinks, but only two. Erik did not dare drink alcohol in his already shaken state of mind for fear he might do something he would regret afterwards. Raoul and Christine took the wine, not caring what might happen if they got drunk, on the contrary, both of them would love a few hours of merciful oblivion. Erik watched them getting intoxicated but did nothing to stop them, even when Raoul started to insult him, he kept silent.

Finally Erik decided to bring Christine to her room and prepare a makeshift bed for Raoul in the livingroom. "I cannot risk you beeing alone in your state, you might hurt yourself", Erik explained, as Raoul started to protest. Raoul was too tired and too drunk to objekt and fell asleep.

Erik went to his bedroom, locked the door and prepared to go to bed himself. He did not dare extinguish the light, suddenly afraid of waking from a nightmare in darkness. He lay down and tried to read a book. Maybe it had been a horrible choice for the book he had started reading was "Les Miserables" by Victor Hugo and it did nothing to make Erik feel better but caused him to fall into a black depression so he could only lie there in his coffin, not able to move, not able to sleep.

In the morning he had to use all his willpower to get up. He couldn't stay in his bed all day with Raoul and Christine in the next room. He went to his bathroom to take a bath in cold water, maybe that would at least wake him up. It only succeeded in a painful cramp in his legs, which forced him to sit on the floor of his bathroom for a long time before being able to get to his feet. By the time he was dressed he was shivering with cold, at least he was up now.

He went to the livingroom, where Raoul and Christine were already waiting for him. "It is almost noon, are you really sure you are not hurt?" Christine asked. Erik nodded and assured her that he was okay, then offering some food.

When they ate their breakfast aka lunch Erik said: "Monsieur le Comte de Chagny, please forgive my assumption but may I give you one small advice? You should write a letter to your lawyer, claiming your heritage. You may use my desk and you will find paper and ink there."

"I do not intend to write in red ink", Raoul retorted stubbornly.  
"I have black ink as well, if you prefer", Erik said softly. He was guilt-ridden and not able to be angry with Raoul right now, he would rather love a chance to beg for forgiveness but he did not see any possibility to do so right now.  
"You will deliver my letter?" Raoul asked.  
Erik nodded. "Yes, I'll do that today."  
"You will respect the secrecy of correspondence?"  
Erik was tempted to say yes when he already knew he could not take that risk, but he answered: "I can't. I am deeply sorry about that but I can't trust you. I will read the letter and as long as it contains nothing that would betray me I will deliver it. Otherwise I will ask you to write it again." At least it was an honest answer and Raoul sat down to write the letter.

In that letter Raoul explained that he was currently not in Paris at all but visiting a friend and had only recently learned of his brothers death. He would try to get back to Paris as soon as possible to take over the families business affaires.

Erik delivered the letter to Raouls lawyer himself, even asked the lawyer to sign a confirmation of receipt he could show to Raoul afterwards. Then he went to the Darogas house, but he did not dare to knock. Right now Erik desperatly needed someone to talk to, needed some advice but he did not dare face the Daroga. His dream had turned into a nightmare and he was not sure how to proceed without going mad or becoming even more crazy than he already was at the moment.

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 _Now the Darogas words seem to have a strong effect on Erik._

 _Thank you for reading! Please review!_


	6. Chapter 6

**Madness and Hope**

Erik returned home in time to prepare dinner. He had no idea what Raoul and Christine had done all the hours he had been away but they both seemed to be quite calm, almost resigned. This time he did not bother try to be the gracious host, he kept silent.

Suddenly Raoul exclaimed: "What the hell are you up to now?" Christine tried to silence him, afraid of Eriks reaction, but Erik just asked what the Comte de Chagny meant. "I mean" Raoul started, "You keep us hostage, you want to force Christine to marry you - so why all the pretense of us just beeing your guests? Whom are you trying to impress? We all know that Christine and I are your prisoners!"

"No, you are not. Christine is my loving future bride who can't wait for the wedding and you are her friend and thus a friend of the family just visiting us or maybe you are her chaperone if you prefer, until Christine and I are wife and husband", Erik objected.

This was more than Christine could take. "No I am certainly no loving fiancee or bride or wife! I do not love you and after all you have done I do not think I will ever be able to love you. Don't you see that you are playing with us like a pupeteer? You pull the strings and we act accordingly because we have no choice. But I am NOT your loving wife and we are NOT a happy family and we are NOT friends! I will marry you as I promised to do and I will fulfill my wifely duty and give you my body to use for your filthy desires but I refuse to pretend I would like you!" she screamed, then broke down sobbing.

"But of course this is nothing but an act." Erik answered softly "That is absolutely normal. In how many houses are families who perform in the same opera called "the happy family" and all of them hate each other and cry every night because they are that unhappy? It is normal, quite normal. It is all a fake, all nothing but pretense, but it is normal. Most people act like that, most families act like that. I know that it will be nothing but pretense but I prefer a happy pretense to my painful loneliness."

"I don't know if I can keep up the pretense." Christine sobbed "Maybe I will just hate you and the only reason to stay alive will be to triumph over you and see you pay for your crimes against Raoul and me. I do not like to become like that but I fear I will not be able to withstand the temptation forever. You will grow old and weak and I will be in my prime and then I will be able to have my revenge for you will no longer be able to control me."

Erik stared at her. This was not the Christine he had grown to love, the pure, gentle girl who he really loved. This was a strange women he suddenly started to fear. Had he really broken her as he had been broken? Had he finally driven her insane?

Erik answered only after a long time of silence: "You still wish a white dress?"  
This answer was a complete surprise for Christine. "What? Why do you ask?" she exclaimed, brushing away the tears.  
"I had thought you would be pregnant by now," Erik stated calmly.  
"And how the hell should I get pregnant?" Christine shouted at him "You drugged me and defiled me when I was unconscious?"  
"No, no of course not!" Erik protested "I would never dare to touch you, never! I would have thought that you had given yourself to your beautiful young lover by now since I had left you two alone so often for a long time."  
"What?" Raoul couldn't keep silent at this remark "What the hell are you talking about?"

"I would love to have a child but I do not dare to father one. It might inherit my appearence and that is a fate I cannot condemn any child to suffer. No, maybe your lover would be the natural father of our child, he is young and handsome. Our child would be the bond between us, Christine, my darling, and we would rise it together. Even if you will never be able to love me you would love the child and I would love it too and maybe the child will be able to love me since it will know me from the day of its birth. Christine, darling, don't you see that we could be quite contend with our life together? Can't you picture yourself, the primadonna of the opera, singing on stage and me and our child watching you proudly from our box? I can still give you the hearts of all people in Paris if you but continue to sing and allow me to be your teacher and rising our child. I had hoped you might be pregnant by the time of our wedding so it wouldn't be a sin..." Erik trailed off when he realized that he was rambling on like a madman. Now that he had spoken about the idea it did indeed sound insane even to his own ears. He had just tried to figure out how he could bind Christine to him since he knew she wouldn't be able to love him, but all children love their parents, didn't they? And parents love their children, if they are beautiful. Erik realized that his idea was madness and nothing else, he despised himself for his weakness to talk about that before Christine and Raoul. Besides - would he really want to raise Raouls child? He wasn't sure himself but he was ready to take the risk. After all it would be a beautiful child and he would not be the only cuckold in Paris. So much for his desire to have a normal life.

Erik got up and snapped, suddenly angry: "Forget it! Just forget I ever mentioned it. Come on, Raoul, I take you to your prison cell! No need to be afraid I would make a breeding stallion of you. Get up! Get up now and come with me! If you misbehave I will punish Christine and that goes for you too, my darling, if you misbehave I will punish him. Is that understood?" Raoul and Christine nodded, not daring to oppose Erik when he was already angry fearing for each others savety. Erik bit his lips, in his anger at himself he had resorted to threatening them and now Christine would hate him even more, but he did not dare apologize for that would reveil his weakness.

That night the three of them cried themselfes to sleep.

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 _Erik really thinks that a child would repair a broken love (in which he is not alone, many coulpes believe in that illusion) and save their wedding but it would of course have to be a beautiful child for a child resembling himself would only cause more trouble - so his twisted mind came up with a twisted idea which turns out to be too skewed even to his own standards. Will he finally come to his senses now?_

 _Thank you for reading! I'd love a review!_


	7. Chapter 7

**Madness and Hope**

The next day Erik got up very early after a short night full of a terrible nightmare about Christine giving birth to a child which was as deformed as he himself was and himself having the horrible duty to kill it. In this nightmare which felt so awfully real he had not been able to snap the babies neck. He felt guilty about his weakness not being able to grant the child a merciful death instead of a lifetime of pain, abuse and hate but he found that he simply was not able to kill a newborn child, he was not that desperate. Not yet. And then in this horrible nightmare he had watched the child - it had been a boy - growing up to be exactly like him, an unloved, lonely creature of darkness which knew nothing but violence and fear. This boy grew up to be a ruthless killer with no conscience at all and finally killed his mother.

Erik woke screaming at the horror of this vision. He had to do something or he would go mad, he simply could not take any more pain. He needed a drug or alcohol or whatever to stop his brain from thinking, just drink himself into oblivion.

Erik stumbled into his kitchen and reached for a bottle of fine Cognac. He drank a few gulps from the bottle, then his empty stomach refused to take the strong liquor and he brought it up, coughing and retching. The noises must have woken Christine, for she came to the kitchen, dressed in her dressing gown and found Erik dressed in nothing but a worn nightshirt, kneeling on the kitchen floor, vomiting, an open bottle of Cognac sitting on the kitchen table. That was not something she had wanted to see but she felt obliged to help him, not because of him, she would have gladly let him suffocate, but because she knew Raoul was still in the dungeon and if Erik wouldn't be able to get him, Raoul would have nothing to eat that day.

So she went to get a towel and a mop. "You need some water?" she suggested, handing Erik the towel so he could wipe his face.

"I'm sorry" Erik rasped, "I am so sorry. And I am not talking about the mess I just made... I am such a fool! Nothing good will ever come from any of my deeds, no matter how good my intentions are at first, no matter how cunning my plan is, all I can do is destroy. I am not worthy to live." He started crying, crawling away to a corner of the kitchen, curling into a ball and hugging himself.

"You could do something good", Christine suggested as she started to clean up the kitchen.  
"Yes, yes, gladly! I'd do anything!" Erik exclaimed eagerly.  
"Then set us free. Set Raoul and me free." Christine asked softly, friendly.  
"No! No I can't! I CAN'T live without you, my darling Christine, my angel, you are my angel, aren't you? You have been sent by heaven to safe me... yes, it is you who can save me... please... tell me what to do but do not ask me to go without you..."

Christine rolled her eyes and said nothing. Erik was obviously to drunk to be reasoned with. But then maybe he would listen to her somehow? "You can start with keeping your promise and set Raoul free." she suggested.  
Erik stared at her, his eyes wide, obviously struggling to come to a decision despite his inebriated condition. "Yes... yes that would be the right thing to do..." he finally whispered and staggered to his feet. Only then did he notice that he wore nothing but his nightshirt and blushed with shame. "First I'll get dressed", he mumbled, "I am deeply sorry for this shameful display..." He turned away and went to his room. He needed a bath and then he had to get dressed. He had to concentrate on simple things right now and take one step after the other. He musn't think about the future, right now it would be enough to think only about the next simple step to take and try not to slip.

It took two hours before Erik was ready to face Christine again. He wasn't quite sober but at least he trusted himself not to embarrass himself any further.

"I'll go and get Raoul", he said softly, "You like to come with me?"  
"Yes, thank you."  
"To go to the dungeon you need to leave the house through this door." Erik explained, "There is a small anteroom and there is the door. Do you see it? No? You see the mechanism to open it? No? Okay, it might be a little bit difficult to reach for you for it is quite high... Now, you see the small cupboard with the hats? The second hat is the key. Looks like a normal hat but it is really concealing the key, you know. Turn it around." Erik turned the hat and a small door sprang open. Erik led her through and closed the door. Then he turned back and said: "This is the other side of the lock. This stone. You do not have to push it but pull it out and then turn it to the left. That will open the door from this side. You know most people would look for a lock or a button or a lever but only few even think about looking for something to pull out and turn. You can't use what you can't find and you can't find what you aren't even looking for."

"Why are you telling me this?" Christine asked.  
"I am trying to do something right for once", Erik answered ominously.  
He led her through the small corridor down to a larger way and told her to keep directly behind him and try to memorize the way. They had to take some turns and then they stood before the bars of the small prison cell Erik had really decorated with worn furniture, even a chair Christine recognized as one of the chairs from the boxes in the opera. Raoul was sitting on a small bed, covered in a blanket for it was cold but the electric light was bright.  
"Good morning" Erik greeted "Please come with us, Monsieur le Comte."  
Raoul got up and Erik led them back to the flat, Christine memorizing the way and Raoul being blindfolded.

When they were back in the flat Erik got them some bread, butter, jam and tea. They ate their breakfast in silence, Raoul and Christine not daring to talk and Erik struggling with his decision what to do next. He knew he had to do something but he was terrified to make any decision for he knew every path he could possibly take would lead to a desaster. He could only choose between some different desasters and whom they would befall. There was no right and wrong he could only choose between many wrong deeds.

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 _Poor Erik, now he has himself gotten tangled up and has no idea how to get out of this mess. His subconsciousness sends him a warning in form of a nightmare – or is it his conscience?_

 _Next chapter will be up this week!_


	8. Chapter 8

**Madness and Hope**

Erik couldn't eat much, he felt a terrible headache build in his skull. He already knew what that meant. He shivered with cold and went to the corner fireplace to build a large fire. Then he sat down on the floor close to the fire and stared into the flames.

After some time Christine went up to Erik and asked softly: "Are you cold?"  
"Yes" Erik answered, his body shivering despite the heat of the fire "It's so cold in here. It's so dark and cold. My mother used to lock me up in the cellar, you know. It was always so dark and cold. I wonder if she did so to protect me or to punish me..." Christine simply nodded and turned to Raoul. She gestured for him to follow her to the kitchen.

In the kitchen she whispered: "I am afraid he is going to suffer a nervous breakdown."

"How dangerous is he right now?" Raoul asked and took one of the big knives he found in the kitchen to fight Erik should the need arise.  
Christine shook her head. "Don't worry. He is already burning with fever, this will last for some time and then he will start crying until he is utterly spent and falls asleep."  
"You have seen that before, haven't you?" Raoul asked sadly.  
"I told you, I told you he will weep bitterly and I will have to see the tears running from his dreadful eyes... I do not know if I can stand watching him weep now... Please stay with me, I will need you. You don't have to do anything, just stay in the same room and keep quiet."

They went back to where Erik sat. Erik had taken off his mask to feel the heat of the fire on his face. When Christine touched his hand softly she could feel the warmth, Erik was burning with a terrible fever pitch. "Erik, we have to cool you down, you are burning", she said.  
"Of course", Erik said, still staring into the flames, "I'm sorry."

Christine went to the bathroom to fetch a towel which she moistened with cold water. Then she went back to Erik, touching his shoulder, as she said softly: "Erik, come on, you need to lay down. Come."  
Erik pushed himself to his knees. "Yes, Erik will obey."  
"Erik will come to his Christine, won't he?" Christine asked and Raoul wondered if she had gone mad too. Christine was talking to Erik like a nanny would talk to a toddler. But it worked, it seemed to calm Erik down somehow, and he followed Christine to the Louis Philippe Room. Christine took off her shoes and sat on the bed.  
"It's okay, Erik, it's okay. Lie down and let go."  
Erik crawled onto the bed, lying down beside her, his cheek resting against her stomach as she put the moist towel over his head and started stroking his back.  
"It is okay, there is no need to keep struggling, just give up and let it go", Christine assured him. She was absolutly calm and resigned. To Raoul this was a horrible sight, but suddenly he understood what she had been talking about when she told him that she couldn't hate that man but she felt pity for him.

Suddenly Eriks thin body shook with convulsive sobbing, his head covered with the towel as he held on to Christine for dear life. "I'm sorry... I shouldn't make you see this..." Erik whispered, still struggling to control himself but he knew he was fighting a lost cause. He just wanted to give in to his emotions, weep, tell her everything that tornmented his mind, lightening the unbearable burden on his weary shoulders. But he was too ashamed of his weakness to do so without even trying to get himself unter control.

"Erik, you are just making it harder on yourself", Christine berated him softly, "Stop fighting, give in and let it go. Just let it go." Silently she prayed this would be over soon. She hated to have to comfort Erik but she had no choice - she knew that Erik could not help himself and the only way this to be over as soon as possible was if she tried to comfort him.  
"I love you" Erik choked, then he just wept, his body shook with his sobs, as Christine still continued to stroke his back and make soothing sounds as if trying to calm a crying baby. Her eyes were not on Erik but on Raoul who sat there on the couch, perfectly still, not knowing what was going on or what to do. Christine needed to anchor herself to keep her sane and that anchor was Raoul.

To Raoul it was a strange sight to see the dreaded Phantom of the Opera in such a vulnerable state. If he would take the knife and stab him, Erik wouldn't even try to fight back, but this was no option right now for they did not know the path that would lead them to the world above. Somehow even Raoul understood now why Christine and the Persian had pitied Erik despite the heinous crimes that man had committed.

Suddenly Erik started to talk, his voice a soft whisper: "Christine, you know, my poor unhappy mother... She suffered so much just because of me... I was such a wicked boy... My father never saw my face, but my family was shunned and ostracised because of me... my siblings beaten by the other children and they would take it out on me... They all hated me, told me to die, that they had been better off if I had died... Even the priest told everyone that I was the punishment for some sin my parents must have committed and once they did penance and their sins would be forgiven..." He couldn't go on, he choked and Christine just held him, she already knew that story. Erik had not been able to stand the hatred any longer and had run away but that horrible memory still haunted him. "After I learned what they had suffered because of me I forgave them everything. I really forgave them... I... My poor mother suffered the most. I only wish I had had any chance to apologize to her..."

"You needn't apologize for beeing born." Christine tried to comfort him "That was no fault of your own."  
"Maybe not" Erik sniffed "But then I became the monster everyone saw in me... I was just a boy when I learned how to kill... and after that I sunk into a quagmire of blood and filth and every time I tried to break free I... I would plunge into it even deeper... I would plunge in WILLINGLY, sinking deeper and deeper and... I fear there is no bottom at all... The worst sin is that I always plung into that bloody quag willingly even if I have struggled ever so hard to get free, even if someone offers me help to get out of it, I always jump back into it willingly, eagerly. O Christine what I did to you... what I will do to you... I am so frightened that I will not be able stop myself..."

Suddenly Erik sat up, removing the cloth from his head. "I need help" he begged, his eyes pleading with her to give him some hope but she could tell by his look that he was in deadly terror she might refuse.

"It is okay" Christine assured him, pulling him back into her embrace, "Just let it go."  
"I should surrender myself to an asylum for the criminal insane" Erik whispered shuddering, "But they won't be able to help me. If locking me away in some cellar would cure madness I would be perfectly sane by now. No, I dread what they would do to me... what I would do if I ever escaped... it could be worse... But I need help, someone, anyone... I need help!"

Erif fell silent and Christine continued to hold him until he finally relaxed and settled down beside her. His eyes closed and his breathing became even. Christine pulled away, giving him a pillow he could hold on to. Erik didn't seem to notice, he was sound asleep.

Christine got up and gestured for Raoul to follow her.  
In the kitchen she poured herself a glass of strong liquor and drowned it in one gulp. Then she sighed and sat down at a chair, relaxing finally.

"What was that?" Raoul asked.  
"That was Erik suffering a nervous breakdown. Not the first one I saw and not even the worst one. He once told me about that, it always starts with fever, then with crying and normally lasts for one or two days if he is alone. He ususally cries until he is exhausted enough to sleep and when he wakes up he is back to normal but sometimes he would even panic and hurt himself because physical pain relieves his mental tornment" Christine shook her head, then she whispered: "This was a short one. I can't imagine how he could survive alone... with no one... alone in these cellars..."  
"As far as anything can be considered normal when Erik is concerned", Raoul retorted but he didn't know what to do. All he could do was to hold Christine in his arms, comforting her.

"Poor Erik" Christine sighed "I wish I could help him."  
Raoul thought about it. "He needs help, but I am no doctor. I think he is right, he should go to the Pitié-Salpêtrière Hospital and ask for help."  
"The Pitié-Salpêtrière Hospital?" Christine gasped "No! They would chain him up and lock him away - that would drive him crazy!"  
"You mean, more crazy than he is already?" Raoul asked "At least he wouldn't be able to hurt anyone anymore."  
"They would use drugs on him," Christine said "And after all he has been through that would only worsen his condition."  
Raoul objected: "This time I agree with Erik, he really should surrender himself - either to a hospital or to the police because that would be the only way to make sure he would not hurt anyone. A hospital for the criminal insane is exactly where he belongs and I am glad he is beginning to see that himself."  
Christine shook her head. "He won't actually do it. He fears imprisonment more than death, he'd rather kill himself. And we have seen what he is capable of when he is on the verge of suicide, we can't let this happen."

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 _It had been too much for Erik and he finally breaks down. His fever is psychosomatic, he is not physically ill. I picture Erik suffering from a complex post-traumatic stress disorder which can cause an attack of fever._  
 _The Pitié-Salpêtrière Hospital was the largest psychiatric hospital in Paris and it was one which started to treat patients and not only chain them up and lock them away but the treatment really was far from modern standards and wouldn't really help the patients._


	9. Chapter 9

**Madness and Hope**

Erik woke in the late evening. He felt better but he was deeply ashamed of the disgusting display he had made of his emotions. He got up und went to the livingroom, where he saw Christine and Raoul, they sat on the couch, talking softly.

"I'm sorry," Erik said and Raoul jumped, a knive in his hand. "Whoa, easy lad! Give me that knive, if you please."  
Raoul stared at the knive in his hand, then at Erik who stood there, perfectly in control of his emotions, and suddenly he wished Erik would suffer another breakdown for the man that stood before them now was the same commanding and dangerous man he had grown to fear. Suddenly Erik seemed to be even more dangerous when he was in control of himself and in his right mind.

"Give me the knive," Erik repeated and, when Raoul didn't obey, just disarmed the younger man with one quick movement. "You shouldn't hold a knive when you do not know how to use it," he said mockingly and bent down to take the knive. Erik threw the knive through the open door into the kitchen where it hit a cupboard and got struck. "There, much better," he exclaimed cheerfully, then coughed slightly and sat down at the table.

Raoul and Christine stared at him, not knowing what to expect. Erik wasn't sure what to do himself. He had so much on his mind and didn't even know where to start. He decided to do the most painful duty first.

"I have to make a confession," he said awkwardly "Christine, you were right with your suspicion, I do actually happen to know how Phillippe de Chagny died."  
Raoul paled at his words, he had a certain suspicion as well, but he kept silent.  
Erik started to play with the tablecloth, staring at his hands. "He wanted to save you that frightful night... He must have taken my boat and... and... the siren..." He shook his head, trying to control himself. It was the first time he had to confess to the next relative of one of his victims what he had done and he nearly choked on his words.  
"Murderer!" Raoul shouted, ready to attack, but Christine held him back.

Erik nodded. "I bitterly regret killing him," he said "I would give my life to undo the horrors I inflicted upon both of you that night. I am sorry."  
"What do you expect me to do?" Raoul sneered "Pity you? Forgive you? Will you make Christine pay if I do not fake to be understanding?"  
Erik shook his head. "No, I've come to my senses at last. What I have done is unforgiveable and I just wanted... needed... to confess to you what really happend. You might have found out anyway once I set you free, but... I just needed to tell you that I am sorry." When Raoul started to retort something, Erik held his hand up to silence him. "No, please. I know you do not believe me and I know you will never forgive me. Since I do not particularly like you it won't be a problem. Hate me as much as you like - just promise to me you will do nothing to endanger Christine once I set you free."  
"I love Christine and would never do anything that might harm her," Raoul said, then added under his breath: "Unlike you!"  
Erik flinched, he had heard that but he forced himself to stay calm.  
"Thank you. Please remember your promise when you read the wedding announcement in the newspaper," Erik said, "And remember that it would be no good for Christine to have a husband who is locked away in an asylum for the criminal insane, no good at all."

Raoul nodded.  
"You know by destroying the gunpowder with the water you two did me quite a favour for I had to do some reaserch," Erik continued in a quite happy voice, "Well, now that the gunpowder is gone I got myself something even more... effective. You might find it interesting yourself to consult a chemist about the possible effects of nitroglycerine. Quite interesting."  
Raoul only nodded, terrified at the mere thought that they were standing right now in a stock of nitroglycerine. He had no idea how much Erik had purchased and what effect that might have.  
"Good, now that this is settled - Christine, darling, you may kiss him goodby," Erik said.

Raoul got up. "No. I won't leave her at your mercy. I'd rather stay here myself."  
Erik chuckled: "What good would that do? No, I will set you free and if I have to sedate you and carry you upstairs."  
"I agree with Erik," Christine stated "Raoul, it wouldn't help me if you stayed. Please, you are free... Erik is finally keeping his word, he showed me the way to the dungeon so I can check if you are really gone. Raoul, please go."

"I confess that setting you free was not my intention at first," Erik said, "I wanted to keep you hostage for the rest of our lifes and even more so when I understood what wonderful opportunity it would be to size some of your families properties... But no, as I said to Christine, I am sick of being a depraved criminal. She told me to start my new live with keeping my promise to set you free and I will do just that right now and you have no choice in the matter. Now, I give you ten minutes to say goodby." Erik stood up and left the room.

Christine flung herself in Raouls arms. "Kiss me, kiss me one last time," she begged.  
"I will wait for you," Raoul promised, "He is much older than you, soon you will be a widow and I can marry you. I will marry you then, even if..." He gulped and took a deep breath before he continued: "Even if you have his children then. I would help you."

Suddenly they realized that Erik was standing in the door.

"What?" Erik shrugged "Didn't you know that eavesdropping is my hobby? Now, as much as I appreciate your feelings, I really do Monsieur, I suggest that you now swear to each other your eternal love and so on. Come on, this is the finale of your tragic opera, I am just the villain and have no aria in the finale. If you hope for a change of heart in the last moment - forget it, that happens in comic operas and this is a tragic one. O, I'm sorry, I just spoiled your scene together."

Christine started to cry: "Why are you so cruel? Isn't it enough to have me as your puppet? Why must you hurt me like that?"  
"Forgive me," Erik said softly and bowed to her, "It wasn't my intention to hurt you. I was just trying to get over the fact that you two are already planning for your marriage after my death which is not really something I wanted to hear. Monsieur le Comte, I really hope you will keep your promise and I assure you that it will comfort me when I am to take my last breath to know that Christine will be save and happy. Until then... I do not intend to keep her locked away with me. She will return to the opera and her career and if you wish to meet her in the opera you might do so."

It was a bitter taste of what would his life be like after the wedding, Erik thought. He would have a wife who hated him, despised him and he would continue to hurt her just because he had never learned how to be considerate of another ones feelings. It would certainly not bring him the happiness he had hoped for.

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 _Erik has recovered but is still shaken from his breakdown. He is trying to do something for Christine because he is grateful for her help during his ordeal but he's awkward and clumsy in his attempt._


	10. Chapter 10

**Madness and Hope**

Erik took Raoul and Christine both upstairs that night, to Christines dressing room. It was late that night and no one was in the dressing rooms now, the opera house was dark and quiet. "I trust you know the way from here?" Erik asked as they stood in the dressing room. Raoul nodded and held Christines hand.

Then Raoul turned to kiss Christine and said: "I love you and I will wait for you."  
"I love you too," Christine answered and Erik smashed a vase in his need to release his anger somehow. The crash made Christine and Raoul jump.

Then Erik pulled Christine to his chest and retreated through the mirror. "Are you satisfied?" he snapped, "I kept my promise, now it is your turn to keep yours. Tomorrow we are going to take a cab and search all Paris for a humble chapel that is to your liking. Then we will talk to the priest and then we will go shopping for you need a dress. Still want an white one? Yes? Great! I guess we can always adopt a child since I will never ever dare to father one. You should keep the wedding dress for you could as well re-use it for your upcoming wedding with the Comte de Chagny."

"I... I do not want a child," Christine whispered. It was true, she did not want a child, at least not around Erik.  
Erik frowned at her. "No child? Then how are we going to survive our marriage without cutting each others throads?" he asked angrily.  
"A child is no cure for unhappiness. A child deserves loving parents and a good home - something WE certainly cannot provide so I agree with you that we should never beget a child," Christine stated firmely. Erik stood there and stared at her as if she had just slapped him.

When they returned to his flat he said sadly: "Let's ignore all of my wishes. You are right and I am wrong. Let's just pretend I had no wishes or feelings, maybe we can get along that way." Christine did look at him, gave a heavy sigh and sat down at the table, just staring at Erik.

Erik felt uncomfortably. Then he sighed and slumped into a chair. "You know one never regrets anything as much as one regrets a good deed", he stated.  
"I disagree," Christine answered, "A good deed is nothing one would regret."  
Erik chuckled: "O but there is a certain Persian who would strongly disagree with you. And I already regret setting Raoul free. I never had any intention of keeping my promise to set him free, you know. No, I wanted to keep him hostage and get my hands on his estates in Paris. He has some quite interesting estates which just need some reconstruction and I would turn it into a never ending source of money, and it would be honest money. I really should have demanded he signed the deed of conveyance before I set him free... I got ahead of myself this time and now I regret it."

"Honest money?" Christine stared at him, suddenly realizing that Erik was serious, "You really believe you could earn honest money with illegally gained assets? Never! Erik, if the source of your income is illegaly gained then nothing honest would come from that."

Erik stared at her, his eyes wide. "But I would rent out the flats and shops and office accommodations and the tennants would only pay what's due..." he tried to reason.  
"No, Erik. Because it would not be your right to take that money! If you... if you steal a cow, every drop of milk you get from it would be illegal, tainted, bad, even if I count that you would really do work... You understand that?" Christine tried to explain.

Erik stared at his hands, thinking about it. If everything he had bought with ill-gotten money then even those years he had always been so proud of were nothing for he had used money he had earned as an assassin to build up his building company. There was nothing, nothing at all. Christine watched as Erik seemed to shrink under her gaze, crushed by the sudden realization that even those years he had always considered himself as an honest man wouldn't count. He was truly damned and he was close to panic when he realized just how twisted his mind was - or he rather thought he realized it at last.

"I'm sorry," Erik whispered, "I... I always thought that... if I steal a cow and sell the milk... the selling of the milk would not be a sin. I... o God, I really did not know, I never gave it serious consideration." He took his time, staring at his hands on the table, thinking. Then he finally said softly: "I will heed your advice. I asked you to help me to be good and I thank you for your gentle advice. It seems I will have to find employment to do honest work and earn honest money."

Christine did not know what to say. Erik was actually listening to her, ready to accept her rebuke and willing to change his ways. But she was still his prisoner and she was afraid of what he would do if he changed his mind for she already knew that Erik did just that quite often. Right now he was beeing the repentant sinner but no one could predict when his next mood swing would turn him around, making him the perfect rouge again.

"I still want to be your husband, but I think we should wait with our wedding," Erik suddenly said with tears in his eyes, "I want our marriage to be legal and binding and a forced marriage would not be binding but could be nullified even by church law. So we will have to wait until you feel ready to become my wife OF YOUR OWN FREE WILL."

"And if that is never going to happen?" Christine asked with so much gratitude and hope, Erik thought he would die from pain.  
"Then I will wait until I die," he answered, "Besides, as I already told you, I would never be able to consummate our marriage so there is no need to rush to it. Do not fear me, I will never defile you... I have been neutered." That was a lie. Erik had never been neutered but right now he felt the need to soothe Christine and it was such a small lie.

Christines eyes widened. "Who would do this to you?" she asked, suddenly moved with pity.  
"I was to entertain the Shah's wife... but not to entertain her TOO MUCH," Erik lied. Of course this was a second lie but it was a necessary one to keep the first lie up. So much for his intention to be good. He bit his lip briefly and got up. "You see, my darling, you need not fear for your chastity," he offered the third lie, feeling guilty about it but at the same time enjoying the soothing effect his lies had on her. Maybe he would find a way of winning her... well, maybe not her love, he dared not hope for winning her love, but her friendship. Maybe she would be able to like him enough to be friends. Maybe it would be possible if he told her that he was no man at all.

He got up and went to his room. He wanted to play his violin, music beeing a soothing balm on his already tense nerves, leaving Christine to ponder his words. Now she thought she understood why Erik had suggested to have another man fathering a child or adopting one and - as much as she hated herself for these feelings - she felt much saver around Erik than she had before and - she knew she should not rejoice at his suffering - she couldn't help feeling relieved.

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 _Erik did not give up on winning Christines love but it wouldn't be Erik if he wouldn't come up with some weird plan. He has no idea what he's getting himself into now._


	11. Chapter 11

**Madness and Hope**

Raoul had to walk home on foot because it was in the middle of the night and he had no money, no papers, nothing. He was not afraid for whatever creature would lurk in the shadows, it would not be half as dangerous as Erik. He arrived at his house at daybreak, feeling weak and weary.

When he knocked, he to wait a long time until one of his servants opened sleepily. "O my God, sir, it's you!" The servant exclaimed, then pulled Raoul inside the house. "Where have you been? Your brother was found dead in the vaults of the opera and you had vanished, we all thought you were dead too and then the police came asking thounsands of questions about you and your relationship to your brother and that singer and..."

Raoul held up his hand to stop the man from talking. It was already more than he could take in the moment. "Not so fast! The police suspects ME of killing my own brother?" Raoul couldn't believe it. Yet, when he gave it some thought, at least as much as he was capable of now, it was a logical conclusion for he would inherit everything from his brother beeing the next in line and since his quarrel with his brother about his engagement with Christine was well known it would make him the prime suspect. He would have to talk to his lawyer about that but first he needed a bath and sleep. Everything else would have to wait for tomorrow.

The very next day Raoul sent a servant to his lawyer, inviting him to come to him for Raoul was too shaken to leave his own home right now. The lawyer, Monsieur Dubosque, came immediatly for he had been the lawyer for the de Chagny family for almost twenty years now and had seen Raoul grow up from a small boy to a young man. Dubosque had been a close and trusted friend to Phillippe de Chagny and had been shocked by the news that the Comte de Chagny had died. Dubosque had never believed that Raoul would kill his brother, never, for all of their quarrels they had always been close and neither of the two brothers was capable of doing physical harm to anyone, least of all to each other.

The old lawyer did listen to Raoul as the young man told everything he knew about that fateful night in the opera, about his captivity and that Erik still held Christine hostage and finally that Erik had confessed to being the murderer of Phillippe.

"I have been a lawyer for almost thirty years now but I never ever heard of a story like that. It seems to be too fantastic to believe, yet I do believe you, I have already been contacted by the police and I have had a talk to the examining magistrate. There is a witness who confirmes your story, a Persian, who appears to be crazy, so no one believed his testimonial. I am sure that if you tell the story to the police or the judge as you told me, no one would believe you. They would either think you were mad or even worse see their suspicion against you confirmed. I strongly advise that you are "ill" right now and refuse to talk to anyone about that. I'll keep in touch with the judge and try to find out a little bit more. But since Poligny and Debinne told that there had never been any trouble with someone who called himself "Phantom" or any other extortionist when they were managers of the opera, only Moncharmin and Firmin denounced that there had been blackmail, it is quite complicated. Since all the Phantom wanted to gain was 20.000 Franc a month, box 5 and Christine Daae as primadonna, they suspect you and Mademoiselle Daae to be "the Phantom"."

"Me? Christine?" Raoul was shocked. It had never occured to him that the police would not believe him or would even deny Eriks existence. He had no idea what to do but contact the Persian. He couldn't do it himself because he really felt sick and didn't want to leave his home so he sent a servant to invite the Persian, whose name and adress the lawyer had already found out.

The Daroga went to see Raoul immediatly for he had been very worried after his last encounter with Erik.

When they sat in Raouls livingroom, having tea, Raoul told the Daroga everything he knew and could remember and the Daroga took notes in a little notebook. When Raoul told him that Erik even confessed to his plan never to let go of him and to size his estates in Paris the Daroga nearly dropped his notebook.  
"I had always known Erik to be a dirty scoundrel and that seems to be so typical Erik," the Persian said, "Erik hadn't planned that, he just jumped on the opportunity once he learned of it. I don't think he would give up on that plan so be prepared to receive a ransom demand from him asking you to pay for Christines safety. When he wants you to give him one of your estates instead of money he will have to show himself at last and reveil the name he now uses, for I know he has many different identitys, all of them with seemingly authentic papers. That might be the opportunity we need to get hold of him."

"He still has Christine as his hostage," Raoul warned him, "And I will do nothing to endanger her."  
"Yes, but we have to do something," the Persian agreed, "Otherwise you risk being punished for the crimes he committed. I don't want to go down there with the police, even if they would believe me, not with Erik playing with nitroglycerine down there. He could blow up not only the opera but parts of the catacombs as well if he attatched the explosive devices at certain critical points. Erik is an architect and master mason, he knows exactly were the weak points in achitectural statics are and how to take down a building."  
"But I cannot sit here doing nothing!" Raoul protested.  
The Persian shrugged. "No, but I know him better than everyone else. You told me that he suffered a breakdown, that is very good because as far as I know he is amazingly sane the weeks after a breakdown and right now he seems determined to atone for at least some of his sins - he set you free after all. Maybe I can reason with him now."  
"Then what are we going to do?" Raoul asked.  
"Placing an advertisement in all newspapers. The words have to be: "O.G. I found your straying cat. friendly D." I am sure his curiosity will get the better of him and he will agree to meet me," the Persian informed the young man.  
"How do you know?" Raoul asked.  
"That's his way of communicating with people whom he can't simply give his adress. He tells them to put a small advertisement in a newspaper and he reads his newspaper every day and very carefully looks for a message for O.G. I've contacted him myself two times in this fashion and signed with "friendly D." so he will know it is me. I expect him to send a letter to me telling me when and where to meet him. There is a high risk involved but I am ready to die trying to stop him."  
"That doesn't sound very optimistic," Raoul pointed out.  
"No, because if it comes to a fight we do not stand a chance against Erik. Our best hope is that I manage to reach his conscience. I've done so before but I am not sure if it would work now that we are no longer friends but sworn enemies... Although there is a chance that he really feels remorse and will listen to reason."

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 _So, this chapter is all about Raoul but don't worry, we will see Erik and Christine soon. Raoul doesn't know what to do but he knows whom he can ask for help._


	12. Chapter 12

**Madness and Hope**

Erik was more than confused when he read the newspaper. He knew that the Daroga was refering to Raoul with the straying cat but why would he want to meet him? Erik assumed that the Raoul and the Daroga had not given up in their quest to save Christine - thus giving Erik all the proof he never wanted to have that every time he tried to do something right and good he would live to regret it. Erik sighed and finally came to the conclusion that he would meet with that unnerving Persian dolt but he would take precautions.

First, the Persian could come with armed men, be it the police or hired mercenaries and Erik had no intention in being either shot or captured. That was something he would have to prevent. Then he had to make a failsafe plan if something went wrong and prepare for a worst case scenario. The worst case was that he would be cornered and had to kill himself to avoid imprisonement. That was something he could not do because Christine would starve to death in his home. No, he'd rather surrender and tell them how to safe her an kill himself afterwards. So he prepaired a small sachet of poison he would hide in his underwear and a second one he would hide in his mask so he could kill himself in prison after beeing arrested.

Then he wrote to the Persian a letter, telling him to meet at three a.m. on Saturday in box 5 in the opera and bringing the stray cat with him but no one else. At three o'clock he was in the pillar in box five. The Persian and Raoul were already waiting in the box, only lit by one small lamp the persian carried with him. "Now go to the flyspace," Erik ordered, using his ventriloquism to make his voice coming from the ceiling when he really was in the pillar, "Go up and take the first footbridge, the one which is closest to the auditorium."

As soon as the two men had left, Erik started to sprint to the flyspace himself, then he stood there, catching his breath before he went to another footbride, one hanging a little bit lower so he would have to look up to them but on the opposite site of the stage. Some footbridges were dangling at ropes and chains so they could be lowered if nessesary and that was exactly what he needed now.

Raoul and the Persian stood on the footbridge Erik had told them when suddenly a spotlight flashed, bathing them in light, blinding them to the darkness where they knew Erik to be.  
"Welcome to my opera," Erik greeted, his voice coming from above.  
"Erik, stop that sham, I know you are the greatest magician in the world, you do not have to proove that! Let us talk!" The Daroga implored.  
"Spoilsport," Erik scolded him and went to the other footbridge so Raoul and the Persian could see him.

"How is Christine?" Raoul asked.  
"Fine, she is sleeping right now and I really want to go to bed myself so state your business and be gone," Erik huffed, "But before we start talking, one friendly advice: Do you see the rope in my hand? Yes? That's good! Now look up to the ceiling, do you see the iron rings holding your footbridge high above the stage? You see that they are connected? If I drop the rope, you will fall quite a few meters and break your legs if you are lucky, or your back or even your neck if you are not so lucky. So stop thinking about shooting me down. Now state your business and make it short for my arm already grows tired."

Raoul flinched and the Daroga only sighed. Erik had made an impressive first move in this game but the first move did not mean that Erik would win. Raoul, who suffered from vertigo badly, clung to the handrail in panic.

"Erik, we have vital information concerning Christine Daae. You want to hear it?" the Persian asked. Erik nodded and the Persian went on: "The police thinks that she and Raoul de Chagny are the ones behind the Phantom affaire and that they killed the Comte de Chagny to come into the inheritance."

Erik nearly dropped the rope in his surprise and the Persian smiled as he realized that he had taken Erik aback. Erik lost all his magicians attitude and seemed to be more human now. He had to take a few deep breaths to calm himself before he could answer. "Those fools! How dare they suspect my darling Christine! She never did anything bad, on the contrary, she did prevent me from commiting crimes!" Eriks voice thundered in his rage, his words giving the Persian new hope that Erik might be back to his normal self. That meant, he could be reasoned with.

"We need to do something," the Daroga reasoned, "Otherwise Christine Daae will be arrested when she returns to the stage. You don't want that to happen, do you?"  
Erik shook his head, sadly. "Never! I promised to keep her save and that she would be able to return to the stage. I won't allow this to be a vain endeavor, I simply will not allow it!"  
"Then you have to do something," the Persian suggested.  
"It seems my decision to let Raoul go free turns out to be a worse mistake than I already knew it was," Erik mumbled, "If you were still my hostage I could simply ask for ransom and thus would be proof enough that you and Christine were victims to the same violent felon as the late Comte de Chagny. Too late for that, what a shame. Now leave me, I have to do some magic. I will contact you and tell you what to do. Until then you keep quiet and speak to no one, if the police comes to arrest you, say nothing, nothing at all! Understood?"  
"Only if you promise not to sacrifice Raoul for Christines sake," the Daroga demanded.  
"O really? YOU of all people want ME to make such a foolish promise?" Erik huffed, annoyed by the Darogas demand.

"I think after all you did to me you after everything I suffered to save you you are im my dept," the Persian said.  
"May I remind you that it was YOU who didn't want to be Eriks friend any longer?" Erik teased.

Now Erik was back in some childish mood and the Persian would have none of it - he had no time for this childish game. "Erik, can we discuss that later when we solved the problem with the police?" he asked.

Erik roared with laughter. "I can't believe it was YOU who said that! Would you be so kind as to visit me in my home and have this nice little sentence recorded to a phonograph cyinder? I really need to save that one for later use!" Erik was in a wanton mirth and the Persian decided to make the best of it.

"You wouldn't sacrifice Raoul or me to archive your goal to whitewash Christines reputation?" he asked.

"O no, my foolish friend, it would ruin my reputation as criminal mastermind if I just let the police jump to a conclusion they already have," Erik teased. He would have loved to see Raoul going to be punished in his place but he knew that Christine would never forgive him if she ever learned of this. So he had to do something else but he had no idea what that might be. He had promised to be good, well, that meant in his case as good as he could afford to be without endangering his goals. He would have to come up with something different.

Erik bowed to them mockingly as he sang - he literally sang - "Gentlemen, I bid you GOODBY!" and vanished into a cloud of smoke. The rope slid from his hand and fell, it slid from whatever was holding it at the ceiling and fell to the stage. Raoul cried out in sheer terror but nothing happened.

"Showoff," the Daroga scoffed, then turned to Raoul who was shaking with fear: "Don't worry, the rope was only a diversion."  
"So we actually were never in danger?" Raoul asked hopefully.  
"We were in grave danger," the Persian replied, "But it wasn't the rope. That was far too obvious. No, I am sure Erik had something up in his sleeve we can't even conceive."

Erik smiled at his old friends words. Of course the rope had been a bluff and he had nothing up his sleeve for lack of set-up time but his reputation had done the rest and browbeaten them. He rather liked that. And now he knew for sure that Raoul suffered from vertigo that was as valuable an advantage as the Daroga was a non-swimmer. If he had to fight both of them at once he would have to find himself some waterfall as a battlefield. Yes, he would love that.

Erik shook his head and berated himself for letting his good resolutions slip so easily and so soon. No, he would kill no one and certainly not for sports. Never again. He had much work to do to amend the wrong he had done and to his shame he still had no idea how to do it.  
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 _A delicate task for all of them - Erik, Raoul and the Daroga have a common goal: they have to whitewash Christine and can't go at each other's throads right now. Erik is the one with most experience how to avoid problems with the police but what plan will his twisted mind come up with?_


	13. Chapter 13

**Madness and Hope**

Raoul waited at his home for the police to come and question him but they never came. It took three weeks until his lawyer came to tell him, that they found the murderer of the Comte de Chagny, dead, he had hung himself in the cellars of the opera house, close to the catacombs where sometimes homeless people would seek shelter. It had been a drug addict and on his body they had found a suicide letter with his confession.

Raoul tried to think about that. Had Erik finally killed himself? It was not impossible, but then where was Christine? Had Erik killed her before committing suicide? He asked his lawyer exactly who that murderer was.

Dubosque took out his notebook and answered: "In the police report it read that it was a young man whose identity is not known yet but he..."  
"A YOUNG man?" Raoul exclaimed.  
"Yes, as far as the police knows it was a young male prostitute and drug addict, but they do not know his name."  
"Then Erik killed another one and cast the blame on him," Raoul whispered. He felt sick at the mere thought of it but he had already known Erik to be rotten to the core. This was just another piece of evidence just how dangerous this man was.  
"There is something else I have to tell you," the aged man said sternly, "I have been contacted by a collegue of mine, an advocate of ambiguous reputation who is known to... to know exactly the right men when it comes to corruption in the higher ranks of the police and the judicial system. He told me that one of his clients has a message for you and he seemed to be rather worried, which is a solitary exception given his clientele. The message is: "Now that your reputation is clean, keep away from me and my wife." It seems to me that even he is afraid of this special client of his."

Raoul shuddered at the word "wife". Had Erik already forced Christine to marry him? Had he raped her? Erik had said he wouldn't do that but it was Erik and Raoul already knew that Eriks promises were worthless.

He went to see the Persian and told him what he knew.

The Persian gave a deep sigh. "That's typical for that monster Erik. I guessed that he might have bribed an official. The worst thing is that it was I who gave him that idea. Back in Persia I saved him and dressed a corpse in his clothes so he would be presumed dead. Now he uses the same trick with some enhancements. I am sure he forced that young man to write the letter before killing him. And then he bribed the officials to make sure they would buy the sham. I don't know how much money he spent on this but I am afraid you have to be prepared that he will try to get his money back and you will be the one to pay for it."

"As long as he holds Christine hostage he can have everything," Raoul answered, "I would give him everything if he would only let her go."

"I am not sure he will ever give up on her," the Persian said, "Erik thinks he loves her, I have no idea if he really loves her or if he just thinks he would... I have no idea what he is up to now. We cannot try to take her back by force for the police won't help us now. I have no idea whom he bribed and with how much money but now he has certain corrupt policemen who will do everything to make sure no one ever believes that Erik exsists - because if he ever gets captured the corruption scandal will be reveiled and they will try to prevent that. Erik is save now because the two of us cannot take him by force, not with Christine his hostage and certainly not with him sitting on a barrel of nitroglycerine."

Raoul stared at the old man, then suddenly wept bitterly.

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 _Now Erik has won every game so far - except the only one that really matters to him: will he ever be able to find love?_


	14. Chapter 14

**Madness and Hope**

It was just two weeks later that Erik informed Christine that she had no reason to fear for her or the Comte's reputation any longer, she was save now. Christine did not even bother to ask him what he had done, she knew it had to be something awfully wrong.

"Erik, you told me that you wanted to be good," she berated him.  
"Yes, and I have been good - I made sure Raoul is save despite the fact that I strongly dislike him and it cost me a fortune, a king's ransom," Erik replied.  
"No, it did not. It was not YOUR money you spent but the money you did extort from the managers," Christine rebuked him.  
"How do you know?" Erik asked, not even bothering to deny it.  
"You became careless. I found one of your letters you had torn up and re-written in the dust bin and I read it. I know that you demand 20.000,- Franc a month but you gave up on box 5. Why?"

Erik fidget around on his chair uncomfortably. That was a topic he had wished to avoid. Christine watched him and then she realized what he was up to and it brought tears to her eyes.

"You never wanted me to return to stage, did you? All our lessons the last month, all the preparation for me to sing the Queen of the Night in the Magic Flute - it was nothing but one of your illusions, wasn't it?" she inquired.

Erik lowered his head in shame. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

"You... YOU ARE SORRY? That's all you have to say?" Christine screamed and slapped him. She really slapped him in her anger and Erik flinched and ducked down before her. "I should have known! I should have known I could not trust you! Tell me, is anything you ever told me the truth? Do you even know what the word truth means?"

Erik fell down on his knees before her. "I love you, that is the truth," he stated miserably.

"I highly doubt that by now," Christine retorted angryly, "If you loved me you would not keep me prisoner, you would not tell me so many brazen lies. If you loved me you would not try to make me your partner in crime!"

"I never made you my partner in crime," Erik objected.

"Yes, you do," Christine said, now no longer screaming but weeping, "I wear the clothes you bought with ill-gotten money, I eat the food you buy with ill-gotten money and I wear the jewels you buy with ill-gotten money. What does this make me other than your partner in crime? You might as well buy a black dress and a black mask for me so I really look like the bride of the Phantom."

"No! You are innocent, you are no criminal, you are..." Erik panicked as realization hit him that she was right.

"I want a black dress and a black mask," Christine said miserably, "I certainly need nothing else to create the right look."

"NO! You are beautiful! You are the most beautiful women in the world," Erik whimpered.

"Erik, did you ever look at me in the last few weeks? Really look at me? Did you not notice that I assimilate to you with each and every day?"

Erik raised his head and looked at her. She had lost much weight and now her dress which had been perfectly fitting only six month ago was now far too large. Christine had lost all womanly curves and stood skeletally thin before him. The skin of her face had lost its colour and gained a sickly paleness, the bones of her cheeks only too visible, dark shades around her eyes. There was a certain likeliness to him now.

Erik trembled as realization crushed down on him what he had done to her. "I will not tolerate that!" He stated firmly, "I will not allow that to happen! I'd rather let you go right now."

"And where can I go?" she asked "Erik, where can I go now that I am accomplice to an extortionist?"

"Raoul de Chagny?" Erik suggested miserably.

Christine gave a short and bitter lough. "No! Now that I am stained I will not go to him. He is a good man and I am sure he would help me but I would destroy him for I have changed and I do not know if I am any longer capable of loving anyone."

"The opera?" Erik tried another suggestion.

"I won't. I can not sing on stage, not with you still around. I would always think of the horror of you kidnapping me from the stage. I do not think I will ever be able to enter any stage again," Christine said coldly, "You win. I have no choice but staying with you now. YOU WIN, YOU WRETCH."

Erik shuddered. He had won, but at what cost? It was too much, he realized, far too much. He had to calm himself to be able to think straight. Erik got up and went to the piano, starting to play. Suddenly Christine ran to him and shut the cover with so much force, Erik could barely draw back his hands in time. He stared up at her in shock.

"Don't you DARE play your music!" Christine yelled at him "Don't you EVER dare play music again! I do not want to hear it! I hate it as I hate you!"

Erik could not look at her any longer. He sat there, staring at the opposite wall, Christine standing behind him, looking at another wall, neither of them daring to look at each other or the pure venom of their dark emotions would turn them to stone.

"Then I truly destroyed you," Erik whispered, unshed tears burning in his eyes.

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 _Don't worry, this is NOT the end of the story. More chapters will be up the next days and I hope you will read them. I'd love to receive some reviews! Thank you!_


	15. Chapter 15

**Madness and Hope**

Neither Christine nor Erik could tell how long they had been there, petrified by their emotions, unable to move, unable to think, unable to look at each other.

It was Erik who was able to think again first. "If this was an opera, we would have our tragic finale by now and the audience would go home, but this is no opera and I will not allow this to be the end! I simply will NOT allow this to be the end for both of us! I will not allow us to die in this miserable tomb I created and imprisoned us together. Come on, my darling, we escape now!"

Christine stared at him as if he had finally gone utterly mad.

Erik got up and went to her room, searching for a certain dress and shoes. He found it, somewhat crumpled in the cupboard, took it and shoved it to Christine. "Here, put this on. And these shoes. You'll look like a women from the working class then. Put it on now!"

Then he went to his room to change his clothes as well. Now they were dressed like people from the working class would dress. Erik just added a mask and some hidden weapons in his coat and a cap. Then he just took her hand and pulled her with him. "Come, come with me! We'll escape from that tomb!" he exclaimed eagerly.

"But my..." Christine started.  
"No, forget it! Leave everything as it is! We are escaping now or we die here. We have to hurry!" Erik urged her to run with him, run through the corridors and then they were suddenly standing in a street. Only now they noticed that it was daytime.

Erik took a deep breath and straightened his shoulders. "Okay, that is not as I planned it but we won't go back now. Come on, we'll start a new life right now. I'll find myself an employment, I'll take every work no matter how lowly it will be and we start from there."

Christine chuckled in spite of herself. Erik was in a childish playful mood and suddenly she found that new game of his quite likeable. After the horror they had just been through they needed something to cheer them up. She even took his arm he offered her as they went through the streets at full daylight, asking herself if she was now as crazy as he was. Her behaviour was not something she would call normal – there she was, with Erik, whom she hated for what he had done to her, but she was playing along and for some unknown reason she enjoyed this crazy game. Could one enjoy a childish game after everything she had been through?

Christine did notice the stares, the gasps and the mockery from the other people but Erik was able to ignore it and so she too pretended not to notice. "Keep your eyes open, darling, I am looking for an employment, so if you see any sign that someone needs a workman, tell me. I'll keep my eyes open as well. But we do not have to ask for any work where I had to work with many customers, they won't hire a man in a mask. So nothing like waiter or something like that."

They went through the city and sometimes really noticed signs and Erik even found the courage to ask for work but he was turned down. This did demoralize Christine but not Erik who was used to being shuned.

At sunset Christine asked Erik if they were to return to the opera now. Erik shook his head. "No, we won't go back to a prison we just escaped. No! We are lucky it is summer so we can spend the night somewhere in the streets without beeing cold. Here, that would make a nice shelter. We could squeeze in there and spend the night there." Christine found it odd to pretend to be homeless but she did not refuse. It was better then going back. "I don't have any money but I will steal some food. Only a little bit. Just a moment!" Erik said and went away. It was really only minutes later that he returned with a bottle of water and some bread and cheese.

„Run," he whispered, took her hand and they ran through a maze of small and dark side streets until they found shelter below a bridge.

"Here - you eat first," he offered, his voice light and his demeanor like a brother trying to protect her. She ate some of the food, then berated him for stealing. "I'm sorry, I have no money and I did not find a job today. You've been with me, you know that I tried hard."  
"Yes, yes you did," she agreed, wondering when he would tire of this new charade of his for she did not believe that he would actually go through with it. They would spend a few days wandering the city and asking for work and then he would give up and they would return to the opera. But she had to admit to herself that she in a twisted way enjoyed this new game. Erik ate the leftovers from her dinner and finally they settled down under a staircaise in a backyard. She set down next to him and allowed him to pull her into an embrace, promising to protect her from every danger that would dare face him.

"I am the most dangerous creature in this city," he assured her, "There are no monsters who dare face me. There are no werewolfes, no vampires..."  
"No ghosts or phantoms..." she added with a smile and gave a yawn, as she drifted off to sleep.  
"Yes, there are no ghosts or phantoms," Erik whispered in her ear, breathing the sweet scent of her hair. Even he slept for a few hours that night.

They woke early at sunrise from trittering of birds.  
"How was your first night as homeless?" Erik asked worriedly.  
"It was not my first night as homeless," Christine answered, "I have grown up in poverty but I wouldn't say my childhood had been an unhappy one."  
"Let's go on hunting for a job," Erik suggested, doing his best to sound happy.

They spend five days trying to find a job for Erik and Christine sensed that Erik became more and more desperate. She was sure he would give up on his game but nevertheless she kept encouraging him, stating she didn't mind to sleeping on the street and having him stealing the necessary food for them. She suddenly realized that both of them were re-enacting their childhood, to Erik sleeping on the street and stealing food seemed to be a cherished childhood memory which was sad enough.

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 _The shock of what happened between them caused both of them to relapse to their childhood behavior. Erik isn't planning anything, he tries to run from himself and is right now just acting impulsively._


	16. Chapter 16

**Madness and Hope**

On the sixth day Christine spotted a sign at the wall of a cemetery that they offered a job as helper to the stonemason. She pointed this out to Erik and he jumped on this. "Yes, that's a great idea, my darling, I'll ask them!" They went to the office and Christine saw the man there flinch as he noticed Eriks mask.

Erik took off his cap politely and asked if the job was still open. "Actually..." the man started, but Erik cut him off: "I think it is open but you don't want a labourer with a mask. Don't bother lying, I understand."  
"Erik, try harder!" Christine whispered behind him, encouraging him.  
Erik took a deep breath then asked again for the job, this time he added that he would be willing to work as daytaller so they could send him away any time they found another workman. "Please, I really need a job!" Erik was begging now, "My... darling sister and I have been on the streets for five days now, without food, without shelter, I'll take any kind of honest work, I just need a chance to proove my skills and if I fail you can always send me away."

The old man looked at Christine and was suddenly moved by pity. He could not guess the masked man's age but the girl was very young. From the looks of them they were really starving and needed help. At least the masked man hadn't tried to rob him but asked for a job. "It is not my decision, but I'll ask the cleric who is in charge for this cemetery. Come with me. By the way, what's your name?"  
"My name is Erik and this is my younger sister Christine", Erik answered. Christine bit her lip as not to lough at that. Erik was really going through with his new game.  
"You last name?"  
"Marcus," Erik answered. It was a lie, his name had never been Marcus and he had never used that one as surrogate name before.  
"Well, Erik Marcus, this way if you please."

The cleric was an old man. He was surprised by the masked man politely asking for a job.  
"Who are you?" he asked.  
"My name is Erik Marcus and this is my little sister Christine," Erik said and Christine made a curtsey, smiling.  
"Why do you wear that mask?" the cleric asked.  
"I suffer from a severe defacement and it is absolutely necessary that I wear a mask," Erik replied honestly, the went on: "Please, I really need a job, my darling and I have been on the streets for five days now, without food, without shelter..."  
"You have any papers?" the cleric asked.  
"No, unfortunatly not. They... we have been robbend and they even took our papers, we... we didn't get the papers back..."

Erik was back to lying. Lying, lying and half-truth at the best. Christine did not say anything for Eriks lies did not harm anyone this time and she was wondering just how far Erik would go in this crazy game of his. Would he really take a job as daytaller at a cemetery? How long would he hang on to that job before he gave up and returned to his criminal ways? She decided to play along and help Erik.

"Please Monsieur, Erik really needs honest work," she said wide-eyed.  
The cleric gave a sigh and then asked if they were Catholic. Both of them nodded and finally the cleric said: "I'll give you this chance, Monsieur Marcus, you may work as a labourer. You'll help the stonemason, the casketmaker, the gravedigger whoever needs a hand. You are aware that you will have to help washing and clothing dead bodies? If you can't stomach that, you should tell me now."  
"Thank you, sir, I really appreciate your generosity," Erik said with a bow. It was completely new for Christine that Erik was able to obey.  
"You can have a small room in the souterrain of the rectory until you find a place to live. Since you are brother and sister you can share it. You'll get your money every Saturday and I expect you to attend to church at least on Sunday. There is a mass every day, feel free to attend."

"I... we have no money at all," Erik asked shyly, "We can't go a week without food. Can I get a little bit in advance? Not much, only to buy some bread?" The cleric answered: "No, because I have seen to many workes run away with advance money. But you can get money not weekly but dayly." Erik had no choice but to accept.

The cleric took them to the small room and Erik nodded to Christine happyly. When they were alone at last, Christine surveyed the room. It was one room with a wood-burning stove, a small bed, a table and two worn chairs and a very worn cupboard. The floor was nothing but earth.

"You really want to go through with this?" Christine asked douptfully.  
"Yes, isn't that what you want me to do? Start a new life, earn honest money, build up an new life without using an ill-gotten funds? I have to start at the bottom and climb up the social ladder. I never expected it to be easy but I am determined to go through with it. Now - you'll take the bed and I can sleep on the floor. If I put up a makeshift room-divider here we can have our private sleeping-places. Don't worry, I'll care of you though I cannot promise you that you will want for nothing right now. I am fully aware that the first month or even years will be quite uncomfortable for both of us, but I am sure it will get better in the future."

"Why did you introduce me as your sister?" Christine asked.  
"We are not wed, are we? And I couldn't say that we live in sin together for that would not be true, it was easier to tell a small lie. It doesn't harm anyone, so I hope you see no problem with that?"  
Christine blushed. "O yes, you told me, you..." She blushed even more.

Erik lowered his head and dropped to his knees. "That was a lie. I am a man fully capable of everything yet I keep a very tight reign over my desires and will never act on them," he admitted. He did not even want to keep that lie up any longer. It was too disgraceful, he could not stand it any longer.

"A lie? Why? And how do you think we could live here together?" Christine asked furiously. She clenched her fists and fought the urge to punch him in his face. She did not dare attack him for she didn't know how he would react and he was much stronger than she was.

"Like we did before. Did I ever touch you in any sensual way, did I? I am in perfect control of my desires, have been for the last thirty years, that is ten years more than you walk on this earth! I have all the experience I need to keep you perfectly save in my company. You do not need a chaperone or anything like that - I'll never harm you."

"You really want to go through with that new game of yours," Christine stated shaking her head. She still could not believe that Erik was really doing it. The whole situation was surreal.  
"I will, if you stay by my side," Erik said seriously, "And if you ever feel that you could be married to a lowly labourer we can simply go somewere else, use other surrogate names or go back to our real names - as you wish. But I will only use lies that would not harm anyone. Is that something you can accept?"  
"For a start," Christine answered, "But I expect you to do better in the future." In her head was only one thought: This is no game, he really tries to do something right.  
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 _Erik is wearing a mask and no one can guess his age. So it is easy for him to tell he was Christines brother._

 _It seems Erik finally realized that he had gone too far and the shock of realizing that he had destroyed everything he wanted to nurture brought him to his senses, and right now he is trying to make amends but he has no idea how to do that so he just tries something and waits for Christine's reaction. She reacts positively – of course, she thinks she has nowhere to go now and has no one except Erik now – because to her everything is better than returning to the cellars of the opera house._


	17. Chapter 17

**Madness and Hope**

The old stonemason wasn't happy with the clerics choice to give that masked man a chance to work but he had to do what he was told to. He had to give him a chance, but he did not have to make it easy for him. He would put him to a test where he would fail.

Erik reported for duty punctual. He took Christine with him for he did not dare leave her alone, she might try to run away. It was uncommon and suprised the old stonemason but he had nothing to say against the girl staying. He liked the girl and told her that she could earn a few coins on her own if she helped them. She would have to fetch things for them and clean up the workshop.

"A very rich customer wants to have a marble statue of an angel sitting on his family tomb. You are to chisel it. Can you do that?" Erik simply nodded and started to work. At least he would have work for two weeks for he knew he could not do it in shorter time. He was well aware that the stonemason fully expected him to fail for that was not something any inexpert workman would accomplish. "My darling, would you please sit down?" Erik asked Christine, "Sit down and tell me some fairytales."

"You don't want to sketch it first?" the stonemason asked.  
"No need for that. I already know what I am going to do," Erik answered.

The first day as stone carver was hard on Erik, it was a hot summer day and the work was demanding. Christine would get up from time to time to fetch him some water, when she noticed that he needed it. The stonemason just watched them and wondered if they really were brother and sister for they did not act like siblings would do. But then he noticed that Erik knew perfectly well what he was doing. That was no young inexperienced laborer, this was a master who had done this work before.

In the evening Erik took Christine with him to the small office were he received his payment for the day. It was not much for the rent he would have to pay for the room was already deducted. Nevertheless Erik smiled as he handed the coins over to Christine. "Honestly earned money," he said proudly in a voice a child would when it had its first own money. Then he added in a sadly whisper: "Maybe the first in my life." Christine couldn't help but smile.

When they went to a small grocery to buy something to eat, Christine asked if Erik really would continue to work.  
"Of course," he answered, "I already like this job. I always liked to craft something beautiful with my own hands. The only thing that bothers me is that I earn close to nothing. I am not sure we will be able to eat our fill every day. You are so thin, you need to gain some weight, if there is not enough for both of us it will be me who has to go to sleep with an empty stomach."  
"And you are willing to sleep on the floor that is nothing but earth?"  
"As long as you do not want me to share your bed it seems I do not have any choice," Erik replied, "I accept this as penance for now."  
The words "for now" rang in Christines head. Right now Erik was beeing the repentant sinner but for how long? When would the monster resurface and take over?

They ate their meal, consisting of some vegetables and a piece of bread, in their room. Since they had a cooking pot but no plates they had to eat from the cooking pot. Erik didn't seem to mind, to Christine this was strange. She noticed that Erik really held back, he was obviously hungry after the strenous work of the day but he tried to pretend he had no appetite at all, leaving to her a lion's share. When they finished Christine asked: "Why did you tell me that lie that you had been neutered?"

Erik stared at the wall, it was made of stone and there was no plaster on it. "Because... I had hoped you would me allow to be closer to you then. And it worked, for these days on the street you allowed me to hold you every night which you wouldn't have done knowing the truth. I... I had to confess the truth at last because... because you became too trusting and I... I did fear for your savety. No more of that! Please, go to sleep and do not worry I would touch you. If I had wanted to do that, I would have already done so half a year ago."

When Christine was just dozing off she heard Erik move. She did not open her eyes and pretended to sleep so she could find out what he would do when he thought her asleep.  
He knelt down beside the bed and softly touched her hair, removing a curl frim her face. "My darling Christine," he mumbled, "I am so sorry. I never wanted to hurt you and yet I destroyed you as you destroyed me. Sometimes you have to break down a house so you can build a new one and mine was already a smoldering ruin, but yours was lovely. I am so sorry. Now we have no choice but building a new life from the ashes and I promise to you, I will care for you, I will love you and keep you safe. I have no idea how to be good, how to be likeable, I wish I knew but I promise I will try hard and I will be an eager pupil. Tech me, my angel, teach me love!"

Her eyes flew open on that and she saw his yellow eyes only inches away from her face. When he realized he had woken her, he jumped and turned away. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to disturb your sleep," he apologized.  
"I'm glad you did," Christine answered, "because now I heard your words."

Erik turned away in embarrassment. He had needed to speak these words but he had never intended her to really hear them. "Go back to sleep," he snapped irritated.

The two weeks passed in the same quite manner. Erik had separated the room into three spaces with room dividers so they had a living room, which was the largest one and at the same time Christiens room and two smaller ones. One was the bathroom, a bucket with water and a chamber-pot was all they had there and a seperate room for Erik to sleep in which wasn't larger than a small bed. Erik would get up first in the morning, to clean the chamber-pot and fetch water from the hand operated pump for them to wash and then they would have some bread for breakfast before they went to the workshop. Christine would sit on a chair and read to Erik from an old and worn bible the cleric had lend her and Erik would work on his angel statue which became more and more recognizeable and the angels features resembled Christine. The angel WAS Christine with wings, no one who saw it and knew Christine would ever deny that.

The work was strenous and the days long but Erik found he rather liked it. Erik tried to do as much work as possible, so he would earn a little extra he could use to buy better food. He wanted Christine to gain some weight and be the radiant beauty she had been but she would need proper nourishment. The sun helped the colour of her skin and she really did look healty by now only a bit too slim. Erik enjoyed to watch her progress, he loved to watch her getting better every day. She even started to smile at him when he urged her to eat and told her that he had no appetite despite his growling stomach.

He suddenly felt young again, at least younger that he actually was, and hoped he would be able to endure the travails such as hard work, sleeping on the bare floor and sometimes going to sleep supperless or with only a small piece of stale bread for supper.

Christine stayed with him despite all opportunities to escape. It would have been so easy, one word to the cleric or someone else or just running away instead of going to fetch some water - he doubted he would find her in time. But she stayed with him and whenever he was about to quit - which happend not because of the work or the poverty but because of the mockery and humiliation he had to endure daily at the hands of other workers - she would encourage him to stay and go on. Christine did not really know why she stayed with him. She felt as if it was her duty somehow since he struggled so hard to please her, she could not abandon him now.

They were both like children now, two orphans, who had no one else to turn to and had to battle for their existence, neither of them being able to survive on his or her own. Christine insisted they would attend mass every day and Erik complied, although he would fall asleep as soon as he sat down in the evening mass, his head resting on Christines shoulder.

After the two weeks Erik really had finished the angel statue and the stonemason reported to the cleric.

"I say we keep this Erik Marcus," he said, "I do not believe that is his real name or the girl is his sister but he is the finest sculptor I ever met. He knows his handicraft and it is a shame he is has to do this work for he could be a famous artist instead of a lowly helper to a stonemason at a graveyard."  
"I wonder who he really is," the cleric said, "I too do not believe his story but they seem to be devout Catholics, I see them in church every day even if he falls asleep as soon as he sits down. As I understand it he works really hard and is simply exhausted."  
"But if he is nothing than a criminal at large and trying to hide his identity behind that mask?" the gravedigger asked.  
"As long as we don't know that we can afford to keep him. If he does anything illegal, we call the police."  
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 _Christine turns to religion for comfort, she is a deeply religous girl. To Erik it does not matter what she reads to him, he just wants to have her with him so he goes along with her. But the mass is just boring and he uses this as a chance to have a nap (with his head resting on her shoulder, he is asleep so she can't be angry with him for that)._


	18. Chapter 18

**Madness and Hope**

The following weeks Erik could not have Christine with him because he had to help the gravedigger and the casketmaker, he even had to help cleaning and dressing the dead bodies. At first the workers had expected him to be sick but soon they realized that Erik knew perfectly well how to handle a dead body. It was creepy to watch him as he tended to talk to the dead ones but not to his co-workers. Erik politely introduced himself to the corpse, then there was a pause as if he was listening to an answer, then he would start some small talk with the dead one, even telling jokes or pretending to listen and then lough at something and say: "That's a good one." Or with other corpses he would talk as if the corpse was telling him a sad story and Erik would even find comforting words - to the corpse. The other workmen just tried to stay away from him for they found him weird and creepy.

One of them had an idea how to get rid of him: they just gave him the most disgusting work they would find. A dead body had been found hidden in a box in some cellar. It had only been noticed when maggots crawled out of the box, which had something to say about the cellar which had been hired out to some prostitutes who were seldom sober.

Erik was given the task of opening the box and removing the corpse that must have been hidden for weeks. The smell was overpowering and the sight too much even for Erik to stomach. He had to turn round as his stomach heaved and he was violently sick. The other workmen stood at the entrance of the cellar and watched him. "Hey, you are to clean up this mess not make it worse," one mocked and they loughed.

Erik clenched his fists and tried to block their mockery from his mind. He had to concentrate on the task at hand and that was to get the corpse to the cemetery. "We cannot remove the corpse from the box," he stated, "We have to bury it in the box." When he heard them lough at him writhing in disgust he turned on them, screaming: "This is not funny, you imbecile scum! That is a dead child in that box, a dead CHILD, and certainly nothing to use as a tool to frighten me away. This child deserves piety and respect, at least in death as it surely did not have it in its life!"

He was about to attack the men physically when he suddenly realized that his words had really shaken them. They were quiet and opened a path for him as he finally overcame his disgust enough to put the box into a burlap bag and carry it outside. Most of the men had families and children and right now they were ashamed because they knew he was right. It was creepy to watch Erik as he prepared the box for the pauper's burial. He talked to the child as if it could hear him, he asked it about its short life and told it not to be afraid because it could only get better.

After the burial Erik had to have a wash, and a second one and finally a third one. He felt as if he could not get rid of the stench and felt sick. When they sat in the church that evening Christine felt Eriks forehead and noticed that he was building up a fever. "Not now!" she thought "He can't break down now! Not now, not here!" Aloud she said: "Come with me, Erik, you need to go to bed." Erik simply obeyed, he felt sick and needed to lay down.

This time he did remove the mask and hide his head under a dishtowel himself. Christine gave a small sigh of relieve, this was going to be only a light breakdown for he was able to think and to act on his own. She sat on the floor, her back against the wall, and allowed Erik to lean back against her, his head resting at her shoulder, his back against her breast, as she held him. At least she would not have to see his face now but having his head so close to hers made her shudder.

"A child," he wept, "Today I had to bury a child, it was hidden in a box and the police said it might have been the child of one of the prostitutes, conceived and born in her drunkenness so even the mother might not know that it had been there. I think I cannot do this job after all, this child... I... I cannot forget that child... and now I understand my poor mother! You see, the child in the box, it looked horrible with all those maggots eating away the decaying flesh - but it looked like I think I might have as a baby! Can you imagine the horror my poor mother must have endured when she first saw me after the pain of giving birth? Whenever I thought her cruel, whenever I told her that she was a horrible mother, I did sin against her. She had to be a good mother or she would have killed me in childbirth." Erik shuddered. "After seeing that corpse today I think I would have killed me if I was in her place."

Christine tried not to be sick. What happend today had triggerd this breakdown and Erik was unable to cope with that on his own. But this time she somehow could not say anything. She could only hold him and gently rock him to sleep.

"I might have ended up in a box like that," Erik mumbled.

"I'm glad you didn't," Christine stated, only then she realized what she had said.

Erik fell very quiet, just sitting there, her words had pulled him up from the blackness in which he was drowning. "You really mean that?" he asked, not daring to believe it.

"Yes I do," Christine stated firmely. She could not understand why but right now she really felt that she would have missed something in her life if she had never known Erik, as twisted and broken as he was. She was not sure he really was rotten to the core after all he had done in the last weeks. Erik really tried to make amends for his crimes and was willing to reform himself. She had noticed how he endured the hardships these last weeks without complaint, how he had willingly accepted bitter poverty instead of living in lavish but ill-gotten luxury. There had to be something good in his twisted mind, like a small candle in the catacombs of Paris, but now that she had found that small light she was determined to nurture it.

The next day she found Erik unable to work. He was still shaken by the events the day before and barely able to stand on his feet. She went to the cleric and told him that Erik was sick and needed a day rest. "What happened?" the cleric asked. He liked Christine for he already knew she was a devoted Catholic and a friendly girl. He wasn't sure if she was a girl or a woman for he could not guess her age but he was sure she was a good christian.

"The paupers burial yesterday - that child. Erik had been the one to retrieve the box and is still shaken from that sight," she told him.  
"WHAT? They made the NEW one do that work? Even the most hardened gravedigger would be shaken by such a job. Do not fear, my child, I will talk to them and Erik can have a day off. But now I have to ask you - is he really your brother?"  
Christine decided not to tell a lie. "No, he is not," she said, "But he does not have anyone else in this world and he needs me. I cannot abandon him."  
"But he is the older one, isn't he? Sometimes I think you are just two orphans who stick together but I do not know how old you are. You are a minor, aren't you? And he..."  
"He is much older than I am but I do not know his age and yes, I am a minor. We are not related in any way and as far as I know he hopes that I will become his wife one day and we have a family," she answered.  
The cleric sat back in his chair, then he asked: "I take this as under the seal of confession, but I have to ask you, for I cannot tolerate that you two live in sin under my roof?"  
"No, Erik never even tried to touch me."  
The cleric gave a sigh of relieve. It would have been quite a scandal to have a girl, a minor, live in his house as undertenant and get pregnant.  
"Who is he?" he asked.  
Christine gave a shrug. "I do not know. I just know that he... did gruesome deeds and now struggles to become an honest man."  
"If you need help, my child, feel free to ask," the cleric said, "Right now I have the strange feeling that you need help or at least someone to talk to."

Christine just nodded, then returned to Erik, who was sitting on a chair, staring at the walls, unable to get up or do anything. When he noticed Christine, he looked up at her, pleading: "Help me, please. I cannot go there today. I... I am afraid to report for duty and get to bury another child. I... I am not sure I can do this again, not today, not now."  
"No, you have the day off," Christine answered, "I talked to the cleric, you can take this day to recover and he will berate the gravedigger and his helpers... he was furious when I told him what they made you do."  
"You... what else did you tell him?" Erik was suddenly worried Christine might have betrayed him and the police was already on their way to arrest him.  
"Not much, but he knows that you are not my brother. I think he believes us to be just waifs and strays with you the older one. I told him I was a minor since I am not even 21."

"So you did actually plead with him for ME?" Erik asked, confused, "Wouldn't that be the perfect opportunity to have me arrested and be free?"  
Christine took his shaking hands in hers. "Erik, the last weeks... you... I think you are really changing and I pity you too much to inflict more pain on you."

Erik smiled as he answered in a soft whisper: "Then I did not destroy my angel. You are an angel, a saint! I should be down on my knees before you, I am..."  
"Shhhh, Erik, stop that before you work yourself into another breakdown. You once told me that you liked to go for a walk in the sunshine? How about now? Just go for a walk together, we are at the outskirts so just let's go to the woods or just follow the Seine and enjoy the sun?"


	19. Chapter 19

**Madness and Hope**

One day Christine saw Erik kneeling next to her bed. She could tell by his eyes that he was smiling. „Good morning, my darling," he greeted her, then said: „I took the liberty of cleaning our clothes today, so your dress is outside drying in the sun."

Christine lookes at him, bewildered. „And you expect me to walk around in my underwear?"

„I expect you, to wear this," he answered happily and handed her a plain brown dress.

Christine took the dress and looked closely at it. It was obviously secondhand, but it was all right. His eyes sparkled with delight when he saw her examining the dress.

„O Erik, it's beautiful," she said, „But how... I thought you were giving me all your pament so I could buy everything we need?" The dress was certainly not beautiful, it was the token of love that made it beautiful.

„I give you my basic wage and save some extras I earn working overtime," he answered happily.

Only then did she notice that Eriks shirt was wet.

„Erik... you...?"

„O that is nothing. Today is a hot summerday I will spend ciseling letters to tombstones, I find that refreshing..."

„You lie," Christine said, „You bought a dress for me when you yourself do not even have a second shirt?"

Erik nodded. He enjoyed her happiness, the smile on her face that showed so much gentleness and – he might be deluding himself but he thought he saw even love there.

Only a few weeks later, Erik was again sleeping during mass, he woke from Christines voice. She was singing, softly, barely audible, but she was singing and her voice was as beautiful as it had ever been. Erik moved as to sit upright and smiled. She was singing and that could only mean that she did not hate music any longer. Maybe she would allow him to sing again after all, he would have to be careful. Erik had learned to keep his mouth shut for the less he said the less he would hurt Christine. Just say nothing and go on working. Christine was not talkative either so they had not much to talk about except Christine sitting in the workshop as model for his angels and reading from the bible. It seemed to help her and that was enough for Erik.

There were days when Erik worked so much, his hands were becoming sore and sometimes he needed Christines help bandaging them. Even when he did not need her help he asked for it because he enjoyed her gentle hands carefully cleaning, salving and bandaging his hands.

After the cleric's intervention on Eriks behalf his main job was to cisel smaller or larger statues for the decoration of the graves. There were worse jobs and he really liked his angels for all of them resembled Christine.

"Erik, where did you learn to be a sculptor?" Christine asked.  
"At the opera. I helped with some of the marble statues there, did you know that? Of course I am no sculptor, I just happen to like crafting something... beautiful. I like beautiful things like... like you, my darling."  
Christine looked up and smiled at him. The she asked: "Now, what do you want me to read to you today?"  
Erik thought about that. It was the first time she would ask him instead of just choosing something and reading that to him. "I like king David," he decided.  
"Why?" Christine asked.  
"First, he is a musician, second, he is certainly NOT living the life of a saint but a rather violent one - he has so much blood on his hands..." Erik stared at the small statue he was currently working on. "He has been forgiven and in the end there is a beautiful girl nursing him in his old age," he said softly and whiped some dust from his little statue, sadly stroking the hair of this little stone angel.

Christine gave him a sad smile. She found that she started to like Erik again, not love him, but she had to respect his efforts to really change his ways and to please her. She just feard the day Erik would give up and return to his old ways because she knew without a doubt that he already was sick and tired of the mockery from the other workmen and the painful poverty. It was only a matter of time until he would do something utterly stupid or criminal. All she could do was encouraging him and staying with him.

And it was soon enough that Erik started to complain that he had to work so much that he had no time to look for another, better paid job. He had asked for more money because he was really doing a good job but he had been turned down, if he didn't like the job any more he was free to go - but he would not be allowed to come back then. "They know that I have not been able to save enough money, these misers! They know I cannot afford NOT to work for as much as a week, they know I cannot find a new shelter within one day! They know perferctly well that rightfully I should get at least trice the salary they pay me now and it is just not fair that I cannot simply go away because it would be nearly impossible to find another job with my defacement!"

"Erik, calm down," Christine answered, "You should be grateful that you have an employment. I agree with you that the exploitation of labour is sad but it is not just you - what you experience now is what at least one third of the people in France go through every day."

"But I am... unchallenged. I liked crafting these statues, but now it gets boring. Don't get me wrong - I certainly could sit there with you at my side reading to me for the rest of my life but I could do so much more! I could be an architect, a master mason, a composer, a designer, a pianist, a violinist, an organist, a harp player or even an inventor... and here I end up just as assistant labourer at a graveyard."

"Yes, that is sad. But it is a fate you share with so many ordinary people. YOU wanted an ordinary life!"  
Erik knew that Christine was right. She was right, but he did not feel like giving in. "I do have only one shirt because after I bought that dress for you I had nothing left and your dress was just secondhand. And now you have only two dresses, which is certainly not enough!"

"It is enough. Erik, most ordinary people live like that and they even have children to feed. Did you know that common workers share a flat such as this as a family and they even have to take in roomers so they can pay the rent? Did you know that factory workes live in rooms, twenty or thirty men in one room, or many families share a hall which is no better than a big horse stable? If so many people can live like that, why do you think you deserve better?"

Erik was angry, because he knew that she was right. "I DO deserve better because I am gifted and I could do so much more!"  
"Yes, it is a pity that your face thwarts your chance to get an employment that would match your ability," Christine agreed, "But that does not give you the right to harm others."  
"Even if it is them who do ME wrong?"  
"Yes, even then," Christine insisted, "You did me wrong, remember? And did I even try to take revenge? No, because I knew that it would be wrong!"

Erik finally gave in. "You win. But I still do not want to stay here. Let's try something else. I wouldn't get a better employment if I have no time to go looking for one. Our escape from the vaults of the opera was a bit... hasty. Let's go back and do it properly this time."

"Back to the opera? No! Please not! What of your intention to accept this life as penance for your sins?" Christine reasoned.

"I've been doing penance for more than tree month now, I think it is enough," Erik decided.  
"Three month of living an ordinary life like any workmen is enough to pay for what you did? Most people wouldn't even consider this to BE a penance at all! And what is three month? You killed, remember? What is three month to a live?" Christine was really furious with Erik now.

Erik was taken aback by her argument and took a deep breath, deciding how to go on. Having a quarrel with her wouldn't help him for he knew the feelings she had developed for him were fragile at best and if he wouldn't hold his tongue he would hurt her and destroy whatever positive feelings she had for him now. At least right now she was not afraid of him or she would not have dared to defy him like that.

He decided to try another strategy - reason. But reason had never been his strong side. "Look, we do not even have coats and it is already autumn. We would freeze in the winter - I just want a chance to find an employment that would bring me enough payment to afford for a flat with furniture and enough clothes and enough food. A bourgeois life if you will. But with these dirty rags I will never find such an employment. I have to go back, fetch some proper clothes and... since it is cold we could stay my house until I find something better."

"You just plan to imprison me again," Christine retorted.

"No, certainly not! I still wish for a normal life for us, Please, if you come back with me, I promise, I will take you with me every day when I go hunting for a job," Erik was now back to begging.

Christine did not know what to say. She knew Eriks promises and she feard that he just wanted to get her back into her prison where he had absolute control over her.

"Did I not proove to be trustworthy?" Erik asked, "The last three month, did I not proove myself?"

Christine struggled for a decision. She wanted to trust Erik but he had lied to her so much, so often, how could she trust him now? On the other hand - if she never gave him a chance, how was he to proove himself? "Very well, but I have two conditions: I will not eat ill-gotten food, you will have to find a way to get food without stealing."

"No problem, there is a catering delivering foods and drinks to the opera for the audience - they throw so much food away each night, if I just fetch part of the leftovers I could feed a familiy with twenty children. Would that be agreeable?" Erik asked.

Christine considered it for a moment, then she found nothing wrong with that. "Yes, that is a good idea. Second: I will not accept anything ill-gotten, I'd rather be naked that your partner in crime!"

Erik smirked: "I'd really LOVE to see THAT!"  
When Christine realized what he had just suggested and slapped him in his face so hard, his head jerked back. Erik felt his jaw and suddenly his shoulders slumped. "I'm sorry, I insulted you. I hope you do not think me a lecher now? I... No, there is no excuse for that! I must not even try! No, I have to apologize," Erik said half speaking with her and half speaking to himself.

Then he knelt down at her feet. "Christine, my angel, I beg you to trust me, for now my life depends on your faith in me. Do you trust me enough to come back to the opera with me? I promise I will do my best to find an employment and we will move to a flat as soon as possible. I will not commit any crime, I promise. Please, my angel, do you trust me?"

Christine took his hand as she said: "I do trust you and I hope you will not fail me."

 _XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX_

 _What is Erik up to now? A relapse to his criminal ways? After all Christine is trusting him now - let's hope he doesn't disappoint her._


	20. Chapter 20

**Madness and Hope**

Raoul did not give up on his hope to rescue his lovely Christine. Against better judgement he went to the opera every day, hoping against hope that Erik would keep his promise and Christine would return to the opera. But she did not show up and so the managers had to find another singer. This other singer was older than Christine and certainly not as good.

When Christine did not return to the stage, Raoul finally asked the Persian for help. The daroga been quite busy the previous weeks, always at the opera, observing, asking questions, but he had found nothing - exept one interesting information. The Daroga knew that Erik would check his traps in the cellars at least twice a month and left a small mark on one of the traps which Erik would erase as soon as he found it. But the small mark wasn't erased. It had been there for more than a month and this could only mean that Erik was no longer at the opera.

Raoul and the Daroga sat in the Comte's library, talking things over. They already discussed going to the police but since they could not know which officers had been bribed and which not they did not dare. If they would talk to the wrong ones it would get them into trouble themselfs. Hiring a private investigator wouldn't help either for if the Daroga, who was an expert in avoiding Eriks traps, had not been able to save them, then it would endanger too many lifes if they tried.

"Do you think they are still alive?" Raoul asked the question which he feared most.  
"I cannot know this. Usually Erik behaves like a sane man in the first weeks after a breakdown and you told me that he felt remorse so it is likely that they just left the opera. Erik himself told me once that he dreamed of living a normal life, maybe he just went away and took her with him", the Daroga answered carefully.

"But how often does he have mood swings? What if he flies into a towering rage? Would he harm her?" Raoul asked.  
The Persian just shrugged. "Half a year ago I would have said that he wouldn't. After what we learned that horrible night I dare not say it was impossible. We can only hope for the best, but there is no way of knowing. You did not get any ransom notes?"  
"No, I did not. Did you receive any answer to your newspaper advertising?"  
"No, nothing."

Raoul stared at the window. It was a beautiful sunny summerday but to Raoul it felt like a cold night in the winter. He was so afraid that Christine might be dead by now and Erik - maybe he had just decided to commit suicide and take her to the grave with him? Or had he killed her and was still alive himself? Raoul shuddered at that thought. The worst thing was, that neither he nor his new persian friend could do anything but wait. Wait for any answer that might - or might not - come up eventually.

One day in autum Raoul hat to attend to a burial of a distant relative of his. It was a rather boring event on a rainy day and so he just stood there at the graveyard and did not at all listen to the dead office. As he surveyed the graveyard he suddenly had the feeling he had seen Christine. It couldn't be, could it? Was he going mad as Erik was now? He went away from the others to have a closer look. Next to one of the mausoleums stood the statue of an angel. The angel just stood there, his hands crossed over his breast, his long hair open, the curls falling down over his shoulders and reaching to the impressive wings. But the face of the angel - that was Christine! It was Christine, a sad smile on her face, the lips slightly parted.

Raoul had to leave the graveyard for he feared for his sanity. He told his driver to go to the Rue de Rivoli because he had to talk to the Daroga, the only one he could talk to without being treated as a madman.

The Daroga listened and asked Raoul to take him to the graveyard and show him the statue. When he saw it himself he said: "That is Christine, whoever crafted this must have known her."  
"Is Erik a sculptor too?" Raoul asked, by what he knew about that man he was beginning to believe Erik could do everything and wouldn't be surprised to find out that Erik could fly.  
"In Persia he made some of the decorations for the palace... Yes, I think he would be able to craft something like that, given enough time and encouragement," the Daroga said and started to look around the graveyard. He found two other angel statues who resembled Christine and then three very small ones where the likeness was not so easy to tell.

"Let's talk to the cleric in charge of this cemetary," he decided.

The cleric was surprised that two men would ask about the angel statues but he went to the graveyard with them. "A yes, they are beautiful, aren't they? It is such a shame that I cannot offer you to get one. The man who crafted them simply vanished."  
"Who was he?" the Daroga asked.  
"They were such a lovely twosome, both devouted Catholics, attending to mass every day of the week and she would sit with him when he worked on these and read to him from the bible," the cleric told him, "They called themselves Marcus, claiming to be siblings but I rather think they were two orphans who just happened to be together by coincidence."  
"Did he wear a mask?" Raoul blurted out before the Persian could stop him.  
"Yes, how do you know that?" the cleric asked surprised.  
"Maybe we know them," the Persian tried to make up for Raouls mistake in the questioning, "I'm not sure but we are looking for a couple, she rather looks like one of these angels and he wears a mask."  
"They were criminals at large?" the cleric asked, not at all surprised.  
"He yes, she no," Raoul spat.

"I can show you were they lived, if that would help you? But you are too late - they vanished just two weeks ago," the cleric said and the Daroga held Raouls arm in his grip to steady the young man and keep him from collapsing.

When they stood in the small room, Raoul asked: "And they really lived here for three month?"  
"Yes, as far as I have been told he slept over there on the floor with nothing but a makeshift blanket stitched together from rags. They had a very strict dayly routine, he would get up at about five in the morning and clean up, so she wouldn't have to do it." Raoul looked at the bucket and the chamber pot and shuddered. He had never seen people live in such squalor. "He really cared for her, he even bought a dress for her so she had two when he had only one set of clothing. I sometimes saw him in wet clothes for he had to put them on after cleaning them - luckily it was summer and he didn't fall ill. He worked about twelve to fourteen hours each day, with her most of the time sitting beside him and reading from the bible. I can't believe that he was a bad man," the cleric said and the Persian tightened his grip on Raouls arm to prevent him from saying anything.

Raoul and the Daroga both could not really believe what they had heard. Erik a devout Catholic? Never! But Erik pretending to be a devout Catholic as a means to an end - that was quite possible. But then - why did he put himself in so much trouble? And why had Christine not tried to escape from him?

"Did... did they steal anything?" the Persian asked.  
"No, never. They even left the precise sum they had to pay for the rent on the table when they left. I just hope they would come back, I rather liked them, they were always so polite and friendly and helpful."  
That was a description of Christines nature, not Eriks. Was it possible that she had gained some influence on Erik? The Daroga knew that Erik had two sides, one was the monster everyone feared and the other one was rather childlike. So if Christine had somehow managed to touch the childlike Erik, maybe he was trying to please her.  
"Was he... acting strange?" the Daroga asked.  
"Now that you ask - the gravediggers complained that he would talk to the dead but not to his co-workers. I have seen him handle the dead bodies once, he did it with much piety."

Then he pointed out to one statue. "I like this one best. He really was a fine sculptor."

The statue was an angel sitting on a tombstone, sitting upright, a bible in his hands, his hair falling down in lovely curles on his back between the wings, a radiant smile on his face. This face showed so much love, Raoul could not understand how Christine could have shown that to Erik.

"Why did they leave?" the Daroga asked.  
"I'm afraid it has to do with his request for a salary increase," the cleric answered, "It is such a shame, I know his work was worth ten times as much but it is not my money and not my decision. We only had one position to fill and that was only an assistant labourer, I wasn't allowed to pay him more. He's really a hard worker and I would have loved to keep him. If you find them, please tell them they can come back any time, even if he has to serve a sentence - he can come back afterwards, I'd take him in any time."

Raoul had one more question: "You said they introduced themselves as siblings... Are you sure they didn't say they were married?"  
"That is under the seal of confession."  
"But... she wasn't pregnant, was she?"  
"No, certainly not!"

"Raoul, come with me," the Persian said, "We already bothered him more than enough."

At their way back the Persian tried to comfort Raoul: "If Erik gets up at five in the morning, works twelve to fourteen hours a day and attends to mass and does most of the housekeeping - I highly doubt that he would be able to touch her, even if he wanted to. I rather think he simply collapsed into bed - or rather his sleeping place - every night."

Raoul shook his head. "I can't believe Erik would be that selfless," he said.

The Daroga objected: "If he is really in love with her, he would swing from doing everything she tells him and devoting himself to her to irrational possessiveness and domination. When he is in self-loathing he can be submissive to the degree of absolute self-abandonment. I only hope he did not fall back into self-pity because that always fuels his hatred against people and I have no idea what he is up to. We know that two weeks ago they were both alive and Christine seemed to be healty. That is a good omen."

 _XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX_

 _I just had to write how the Persian and Raoul did spend the summer and beginning autum. Of course they had been busy, but neither one even thought of looking for Erik and Christine on a graveyard._

 _Looks like Erik has given up too soon..._  
 _But where are Erik and Christine now?_


	21. Chapter 21

**Madness and Hope**

Erik and Christine returned to the opera in the middle of the night. Erik held Christines hand for it was pitch black and he had only one candle to lit the way. The wax of the candle was running down over his hand but he did not seem to notice. They had to walk slowly, carefully, and Erik would sometimes stop and sniff the air.

"What are you doing?" Christine asked.  
"Rats. There are so many of them, sometimes one dies here and the stench of the decaying body is awful. Usually I get rid of them in time but I have not been here for some time so I just check if the smell tells me that a dead rat is somewhere... I do not want you to see it, it isn't something for your beautiful eyes. Right now I cannot smell anything odd, that is good."

Christine shuddered as she realized that he was actually not talking about rats. He knew perfectly well that she had seen dead rats before and even helped cleaning the mousetraps at the church from dead mice, which had not actually disturbed her. The death traps... Christine shuddered and silently cursed her stupid agreement to trust Erik and return to the opera again. She should have insisted on staying in the normal world, even if it meant living in poverty.

When they finally got to his flat and he switched on the electric light, she saw him relax. Suddenly she expected him to say something like "Home sweet home" but he did not. He just surveyed the dust and gave a small sigh, then started to build fires in all stoves. "It will take about 20 to 40 hours until the temperature is comfortable. We will have to use many blankets to sleep tonight. But right now I would love to get some food. Aren't you hungry?"

Christine nodded and Erik went to fetch an oil lamp, then he took her up to the kitchen where the leftovers from the warm and cold buffet were ready for disposal. He turned on the lights and they saw all the delicious morsels on the trays, uneaten and only to be trown away, as well as the half empty bottles of champagne. She was hungry. "These are too good to throw away," she said.

"And it is not stealing, is it?" Erik asked cheerfully, "We do not take anything anyone would miss. No harm done, no sin committed. I am a good pupil, am I not? I make progress and I am beeing good, am I not?" Erik now behaved like a child trying to win the praise of its teacher.

Christine smiled at him. "No, they would throw it away in the morning, so it isn't stealing - it is like searching for food in the garbage bin," she said.

Erik lifted his mask a little bit so he could eat. He took one of the salmon sandwitches and ate it. Both of them hungry they really enjoyed their luxury meal, bread, fruits, cheese, salmon, caviar and cold meat. Erik poured them two glasses of champagne, making sure he used only bottles which were half-empty and would have been thrown away in the morning. The champagne was somewhat warm and stale by now but to them it tasted delicious after month of having nothing but water to drink.

Christine felt tipsy and giggled as she and Erik finally took his basket and collected cold meat, fruits and bread to eat for them for the next day.

"I really like that," Erik exclaimed cheerfully, "Enough food for three days and no crime committed. I really think I am going to understand the concept of being good at last. It's all about not doing harm to anyone, isn't it?"

"I wish it was that easy," Christine answered. She was definitly overchallenged with the job of being Eriks ethics teacher and right now she did certainly not feel like going into a lesson again, she was tired and wanted to sleep.

On their way back to the house at the lake Erik had to take her under his arm, holding her tight for she was swaying on her feet and loughed at nothing in particular.

"Darling, you are drunk," Erik said, his eyes sparkling in amusement, "Let's go to sleep. And tomorrow we will have hot water and we can take a hot bath."

"O yes, a hot bath, I'm looking forward to it," she answered.

"Yes, you in your bathtub and I in mine," Erik teased, "Even if I think it would save hot water if we could just share a bath..."

"NO!" Christine cried out, alarmed.

"It was a joke," Erik tried to soothe her, "Just a joke. I'm sorry, I shouldn't tell dirty jokes in your presence."

When Christine had gone to sleep, Erik noticed to his delight that she had not locked her door. She trusted him enough to respect her privacy to leave the door unobstructed. When he retreated to his room, he recoiled from the view of the casket. It was a burial crypt and he certainly did not want to sleep there, not now. When he had build this room, he had been feeling very old, weary and resigned. He had just wished to hide away and wait for his death but now he felt much younger, stronger and his desire to live had returned. Erik decided he would rather sleep on the couch in the livingroom. It was so good to lie down on the soft couch, to rest his head on a cozy pillow and pull warm blankets over his body. After all those month of sleeping on the floor he had good reason to assume that he would get a good nights sleep now.

Christine woke first. She had no idea what time it was, all watches had stopped long ago. She went to the livingroom and found Erik sound asleep on the couch. He had not taken off his mask or changed his clothes, but his even breathing told her that he really was asleep. Obviously the effords of the last months had taken their toll in him and he needed time to recover. Christine build a fire in the stove, then sat down at the table and started reading a book. From time to time she would glance at Erik.

Erik woke from a soft noise. He opened his eyes and saw Christine sitting at the table, drinking tea and reading from a book. He did not want to get up right now, so he just pretended to be asleep, watching her through his eyelashes. She was such a beautiful girl and he longed to touch her, to hold her and to kiss her but he knew that she wouldn't allow that. He was lucky that she had allowed him to hold her hand and her arm while guiding her through the cellars and that was only because it was unavoidable for their first trip and necessary because of her tipsiness when returning from the kitchen. He had to lower his expectations and be content with whatever she was willing to give. In matters of love he would never be anything but a beggar, degrading himself, begging quietly for whatever alms she was ready to give. He would have to be thankful. Against his will his eyes closed and he fell asleep again.

He woke from a soft touch to his shoulder. Christine stood next to him, looking down at him worriedly.  
"Erik, are you allright? You wouldn't wake up and I have no idea what time it is," she asked.

Erik groaned and forced himself to get up despite the headache that suddenly pained him. "I'm sorry," he said softly. Then he stood up and took her to the music room to show her a big longcase clock. The clock did not only show the time but had a small window showing either a sun or a moon. The clock showed that it was 4:23 and the moon.

"It is only four o'clock in the morning," Erik groaned, "Let's go back to sleep."

"Why didn't this clock stand still?" Christine asked.

Erik gave a small chuckle, he loved to impress her with his ingenuity. "Because this clock isn't a normal pendulum clock. You see the cable from the clock to the wall? That's an electric operated clock."

"Did you invent that?" she asked.

Erik was tempted to say yes but then decided it would be better to tell the truth: "No, actually we were three men to invent that. I'm no clock maker, you know, but I knew an excellent clock maker. I knew that using electricity I could make a small wheel spin. Now he did connect my little spinning wheel with the pendulum of the clock so the watch could theoretically go on forever as long as it has electricity. Unfortunatly the clock is always running fast and I have to reset it at least once a month. Therefor it shows 4:30 and I assume that it is only about 4:00. You see the sun and the moon? Whenever the short hand passes the 6 the sun or the moon will rise so I can tell it is day or night. You see, keeping track of time is difficult down here but loosing track of the time would be a high risk."

Christine was impressed. "Wow. Great idea. Why didn't you sell that idea? You would have made a fortune with that."

"No, I wouldn't," Erik answered sadly, "The two clock makers are dead, they died in the war against the Prussians and I cannot build a clock like that alone. I can service it and reset it, but I cannot build it and I dare not dismantle it for I'm not sure I could put it together."

"But you could rebuild your spinning wheel and find another clock maker to help you?" Christine suggested.

"You have the optimism of the youth," Erik stated sadly, "For me there is only the disillusionment of too much experience and old age." Then he noticed that he had slept 24 hours and was already talking about going back to bed. "I'm afraid I'll need time to recover before I can start a new endeavour finding an employment and building up a new life for both of us. I think one week will be enough... or is that too much to ask of you?"  
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 _Erik simply needs a holiday..._


	22. Chapter 22

**Madness and Hope**

The next day Erik started cleaning his flat from the dust and starting the boiler again. He had to let much water run from the taps so the old water which had been in the pipes for months would be replaced by fresh water. Then they finally had the chance to have a hot bath, something both of them had missed. Especially Erik needed the steaming hot water to relax his muscle tension.

They fell into a routine very soon. They would get up in the evening, go to fetch food from the opera's kitchen in the night and go to sleep in the morning. Since neither of them saw the daylight they did not bother about that, at least not now.

Erik asked Christine if she would allow him to play music again. At first Christine wanted to laugh but then she remembered her words to him. Now she felt she could not forbid him to play any longer and so she just nodded and as she watched him running to the piano in exuberant joy she felt guilty. Erik loved music, in some weird way Erik WAS music. How could she ever tell him not to play? Erik thrived on music, forbitting him to sing and play was like forbitting him to eat - it would kill him.

As Erik started to play a random medley she couldn't help but enjoy the music. It was wonderful to hear Erik play again, after three month without any practice he did better than the best pianist in the opera. What a shame that he could not play in the orchestra. When Erik noticed that Christine was standing behind him he asked her to sing with him. He needed to sing and he needed to sing with her. Christine found her voice was horrible that day but Erik was so happy that she was singing with him he did not seem to notice any of her mistakes, no matter how bad they were.

But then two weeks had passed and Erik had not even started to look for an employment and Christine was getting rather nervous. Finally she confronted Erik right away with her thoughts. "Erik, you asked me for one week - now it is two weeks and you have done nothing to find an employment. Nothing. You did not write a letter, you did not go out, all you did was reading the newspaper - and not even the positions offered! I watched you, so do not even think of denying it!" She took the latest newspaper and put it on the table with the advertisements on the upper side. Then she pointed two advertisements out for him. "See - there is a building company offering the position of a master mason. You are a master mason, aren't you? So why did you never even bother to write a letter to them? There is another one, they are looking for a piano tuner, I'm sure you could do that. So why did you not even write them a letter? Why did you never go out and ask?"

Erik stood there, his shoulders slumped, hanging his head. "I'm sorry," he muttered.

"Stop being sorry and do something!" Christine exclaimed angrily, "You can't just hide down here and wait for a miracle."

"I... I'm sorry. I am scared of going out again, I'm scared of trying again... I know it would be extremely difficult to find an employment other than... the one I left because I couldn't earn enough to build up a new life. Even that I would never have gained without your help. I'm so terribly scared of failing you..." Now he had spoken it aloud. He stared at the floor, not daring to look at her because he was ashamed of himself.

Christine felt her anger at him coming undone. "Erik, I understand that it is not easy for you and I promise I will never blame you for failing as long as you try. But you promised to do it, now tell me, was that one of your illusions or are you willing to try? You only have to do what's in your power, if they turn you down, it's not in your power - but you have to try!"

Erik answered without looking at her: "I'll try. But please don't be too disappointed if it won't work."

"By the way - you do not steal the newspaper, do you?" Christine asked, she knew by now that with Erik she could never be sure.  
"No, I don't," Erik retorted offended, "The managers pay a secretary to read the newspapers every day and inform them about the criticisms but they get their own newspapers delivered to their office - they get three copies of each newspaper so I think it is no harm done when I take one copy of each newspaper in the evening. They would only throw them away. No harm done, right? I only get the newspapers twenty hours after they are published."

The next day Erik unenthusiastically looked over the newspapers, writing a list of building companys and architectural practices. He was doing something, that was better than nothing, but it was useless as long as he did not try to contact them. "This time I will do it carefully planed," Erik stated, "I'll make a few lists of possible employers and then I will contact them and ask for an employment." Christine wasn't happy with that for it would mean at least two weeks more in the underground appartement of his. And she knew perfectly well that she was at his mercy - it had been a mistake to trust him. She should have never agreed to come back here with him, but then he had been so forlorn, so weary, she had pitied him. Or was there something else she felt?

For Christine it was not easy to sort out her feelings for Erik. Those three month she had seen him working really hard and struggling to do something right, to please her, she had sometimes helped him bandaging his hands when he had been working until his hands were bleeding, he had slept on the floor which was nothing but earth and he had bought her a dress when he had only one set of clothes himself - which forced him to wear wet clothes after washing them for he had nothing else to wear.

She loved the plain brown dress he had bought for her. It wasn't the dress, it was the loving gesture when he had thought of her first and taken nothing for himself. He had been so selfless and caring - in these months she had come to like him. How could she not like him then? It was not that she liked to see him suffer, certainly not, but there had been moments when she really felt that he loved her. Otherwise he would not have endured his self-imposed punishment that long. It had been the day when she had told him she hated music - that had finally shattered the walls of his mind and all his self-deception and left him a vulnerable and remorseful child.

When he had been working on his angel-statues and listening to her reading from the bible - sometimes she would catch a glipse of his eyes, there had been a quiet joy and so much love, she had been willing to stay with him there forever. She felt that she still loved Raoul but was it possible that she felt something like love for Erik too despite everything he had done to her? Or was she just going crazy? She found that she did not want to leave him now, even if he would offer her the chance, she would not take it.

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 _Erik behaves like a child who doesn't want to do his homework. He should be careful not to ruin everything he had gained in the last time._


	23. Chapter 23

**Madness and Hope**

The weeks that followed Erik sorted out his lists and marked the adresses with different colours and symbols, but he did not write a letter or go to meet anyone. Christine was annoyed at how much work Erik could do without getting anything done. He would do everything to avoid writing a letter or asking for an employment. He even started to stitch a new mask for himself from some beige cotton, some piece of cloth leftover in the wardrobe departement, claiming a beige mask would make him look less creepy and therefor helping him to actually get a job. Erik could really work up to ten hours a day, being constantly busy and getting nothing at all done.

"What are these marks on your lists?" she inquired.

"I just marked them for some of them already know me - no need to contact them," Erik explained and continued to work on his new mask.

"Maybe you should aks for a job at the wardrobe departement of the opera," Christine suggested, "This is the third mask you sew in two days. And why wouldn't they give you a job if they already know you and your work?"

"Precisely BECAUSE they know me they wouldn't even allow me to walk through their door," Erik answered and shook his head.

"What did you do to them?" Christine asked, for all she knew Erik could have done anything.

"I've been their competitor and sometimes their workmate. No, they know exactly how I do business and they wouldn't want to ruin their reputation by hiring me," Erik explained, "I had a reputation for being a crazy genius but a racketeer. I... well, I always thought myself an honest man back then when I was a contractor and build this opera house, but I had a certain commercial style... well, I wasn't the only one then, there were some others too fighting with no holds barred but..." He shook his head and concentrated on his new mask.

"And if you do a completely different work? You can sew as any tailor could, why not try that?"

Erik loughed at that. "My darling, I would just love to take measurements of beautiful women all day but do you really think anyone would allow me to touch them?"

"Piano tuner?"

"Yes, walking into the houses of bon ton every day... no, as soon as they would see my mask they would sent me away. You are far too optimistic my darling."

"Then write a letter before you go there," Christine said, "Anyone else would do that."

"Yes, and how can they possibly answer to my letter? Should I tell them to send the letter to the Phantom of the Opera c/o Opera Garnier? No, my darling, that won't do." He had to smile as he thought of the managers faces if they would actually get a letter for the Phantom and not from the Phantom.

"Erik, I am beginning to doubt that you want to keep your promise," Christine warned him, "Please, do not betray my trust in you. Not now, not when I actually start to like you."

Eriks jaw dropped and he pricked his finger. "Ouch!"

"You... you TRUST me?" he asked astonished, "You LIKE me?"

Christine gave a sigh. "Yes, I do but you make it very hard to like you and close to impossible to trust you. Stop pushing me away from you every time I start to like you!"

Erik just sat there, speechless.

* * *

That night Christine woke from a noise in the kitchen. She got into her dressing gown and walked there. It wasn't unusual that Erik would not sleep more than a few hours, then get up and do something and go to sleep for another few hours later. But she already knew that Erik in the kitchen at night could mean he was drinking and that was never good. Erik was certainly not a drunkard, usually he wouldn't drink much for he feared the effects alcohol would have on him. Sometimes they had a glass of wine at dinner but Erik could sip on one small glass for hours, savouring every sip. But when he would drink in the kitchen, he would just drink himself into oblivion - as far as she knew that happened ot more than twice a year but it was something she really did not want to have.

And that was exactly what was happening right now. A bottle with some green liquor sat before him on the table. Erik sat there, his mask lying on a shelf, and stared at the glass in his hand and the half-empty bottle. He was obviously talking to himself.

"What can Erik do?" he asked, "Can he take her his wife? Can he? When she will never allow him to touch her, never allow him to make love to her? Erik has the same desires as any other man..." Suddenly he turned round and saw Christine.

"This is but a dream," he said, as he staggered to his feet and went to her, stopping himself only inches away from her. Christine recoiled from the stench of alcohol.

"Erik, what are you talking about?" she asked, shuddering.

"Erik loves his darling Christine, but he is so afraid of failing her... so afraid of not being able to care for her properly... so afraid he might harm her..." Erik rambled on and Christine put her dressing gown closer around herself. "So beautiful, so soft and so warm," he whispered, his hands following her curves but without actually touching her. "Touching her would be heaven... and condemning Erik to hell... Alas, what is Erik doing? O my beautiful darling Christine... you are such a precious innocent angel... What is Erik thinking? How can Erik make her his wife when she would save her virginity for her handsome Comte? When Erik can't control his desire any longer he would commit adultery and find himself a prostitute... or even degenerate to self-abuse..."

Christine stared at his blazing eyes, his gaze now neither adoring nor loving but devouring and threatening. "Erik, stop that, please stop that!" she whispered.

"If Christine could only allow Erik to touch her," he went on, his hands moving up to her shoulders but never actually touching her, "Her lips are so soft, red and warm... if he could taste them once... only once..." Erik bent down and Christine was afraid he would actually try to kiss her, when the threatening glow in his eyes suddenly vanished, replaced first by a look of realization and then a terrified look as if he was about to panic.

"God, this is no dream! You are really here!" he exclaimed horrified, then turned round and fled to his bathroom. He needed to sober himself right now. First he forced himself to vomit to get rid of the alcohol in his stomach to avoid getting even more drunk, then he stripped to the waist and bent over his bathtub to wash his face and upper body with cold water.

He had his head under the water tap, letting the icy water run over his head and neck, holding himself upright with his hands on the bathtub. When he heared a noise behind him, he tried to rise, he hit his head hard at the water tap, so hard, he could see the water truning red as it mixed with his blood when he bent down again, then managed to get up somehow and sit on the floor. Christine turned off the water and handed him a towel which he pressed against the back of his head.

"Please go away," he whimpered, "Please don't look at me. Please don't humiliate me further."

Christine couldn't help but stare at his naked torso. He was so thin, she could see the ribs like the keybord of a piano, the terrible scars on his skin. His torso wasn't deformed from birth but it was horribly marred with scars. "You should not be alone now," she said.

"You should not be with me," he snapped.

"Erik, what is in that bottle?" she inquired.

"Absinthe," he answered, letting himself slid to the floor. When he lie there, staring at the ceiling he suddenly loughed: "I'm like a spider hanging upside down from the ceiling, and everything is spinning round... merry go round... merry go round... and now I'm flying... why don't you fly with me?"

"I have to cover you or you catch a cold," Christine said and went to his room to fetch his dressing gown. She had to help him to put it on for his hands were shaking violently.

"You mustn't see me like this... please go to your room, please..." Erik begged, then he passed out on the floor. Christine could do nothing but cleaning and bandaging his wound and put a blanket over him so he would not get too cold. Then she went to her room and locked the door for she had no idea what Erik would do if he woke up. She had heard of the terrible effects of "la fée verte". It could drive a sane man insane - what could it do to Erik?

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 _This time Erik did mess things up - and he has no one to blame but himself, he can't even excuse this with his cruel fate or his deformed face..._


	24. Chapter 24

**Madness and Hope**

Erik woke on the floor of his bathroom, his head arching, an ugly taste in his mouth and his stomach felt as if he had drunken liquid fire. He didn't even try to sit up, he knew he would not be able to. All he could do for now was to lie there and wait for the pain to subside.

"Are you awake?" he heared Christines soft voice.  
"No," he groaned, "I'm dying." He really felt like dying.  
"It's all your own fault, so do not expect me to pity you," Christine snapped. She was rather angry at him. Just after she had told him that she liked him and trusted him he had started a binge.  
Erik just gave a groan. He felt terrible and just wanted to sleep again.

Christine decided it would be impossible to talk to him right now, she had to give him time to sleep it off. She went to the music room and suddenly felt the strong urge to learn playing a trumpet or a drum, but Erik had neither. She berated herself for her wish to punish him but right now she felt he deserved punishment. She had not forgotten his behaviour last night and she would not leave it at that. She knew how dangerous that situation had been but she wasn't sure if he really would have forced himself on her or not, if he had really believed that had been but a dream or if he had known all along what he had been doing. She decided that she had had enough of Eriks selfish behaviour. But right now she could do nothing but wait for him to get to his feet somehow.

Erik was still swaying on his feet, his hands trembling, when he managed to get dressed and go to Christine. She was in the music room, reading a musical score.

When she noticed him, she immediatly yelled at him: "What were you thinking last night? Drinking yourself into oblivion after I told you I would trust you and like you? Is that so frightening that you can't stand it when you are sober? Why did you get so drunk you almost raped me?"

"I did WHAT?" Erik asked, this time he really did not know what he had done, but Christine didn't believe him. A liar will not be believed even when he speaks the truth.  
"That was certainly not the right way to talk to me, if you still claim to love me. That was not just rude, obscene and lecherously, you actually threatened to rape me!" she shouted at him.  
Erik dropped to his knees at her feet. "I'm sorry," he whispered, struggling to remember what he had done. There was something... he remembered a weird dream - but what if it had NOT been a dream?  
"I'm so tired of hearing that you are sorry!" she exclaimed, "All you can say is that you are sorry but I do not fall for it any more. If you were really sorry you would change your ways and stop behaving like the most vile scoundrel and most arrogant rogue!"  
Erik bent down his head until his forehead touched her feet. Christine felt the sudden urge to kick his face but she did not act on it but retreated a few steps. She would not allow herself to sink any lower, she owed it to herself that she kept her ethical code.  
Erik prostrated himself at her feet in a most humble gesture. He did not even dare saying that he was sorry, he just stayed on the floor, his face down, not moving. "Tell me what to do," he begged, "Please tell me what I can do to archieve forgiveness?"

"Let me go!" Christine demanded.

"Please, give me one last chance," Erik begged.  
"That had already been your last chance," Christine replied coldly.  
"Please - I did not touch you yesterday, did I? I... I remember a dream, you came into the kitchen and I was telling you about..." He gulped and found he could not even say the word when he was at least relatively sober, not in her presence. "I remember that I dreamed I told you how much I desired you - but even in my dream I did not dare to touch you."  
Christine gave a sigh. She wasn't sure if he was lying to her now or if he was speaking the truth because he had told her so many lies in such a believable way she would never be able to tell if he was speaking the truth or if he was lying. Sometimes Eriks lies rang more true than when he actually spoke the truth. "No, you did not touch me but you frightened me terribly. I do not feel save with you here in this flat. I want to go."

"Yes, you are right. I cannot trust myself to keep you save, we should move to a flat where you can leave whenever I threaten you again, and I need a minder to make sure I conduct myself well. I... I think I know what we can do," Erik answered defeated.

"We?" Christine asked "You really assume that we should stay together after all you put me through?"  
Erik nodded. "Yes, because you promised... You are my betrothed, remember? I promised to wait for our wedding until you would marry me of your own free will, but I never released you from your promise."  
"You really think you have any chance of winning my love?" Christine asked. She could not believe that Erik was so delusional to hope she would love him after all he had done.  
Erik raised his head and their eyes met. "I cannot give up," he said softly, "You are the only reason to live."

Christine could not help herself - she felt pity for Erik. There he was again, the pitiful, broken man, down on bend knees before her, begging her for a shimmer of hope. Could she really deny him? Could she deny him without that being on her conscience forever? And then - if she denied him that last chance, what would he do? Return to threatening her that he would blow up the opera house? "One last chance," she said, "I'll give you that last chance because you did not actually touch me. But it will be your LAST chance, fail me again and there will be no reprieve any more."

Erik nodded and stared at the floor. "Yes, I accept your condition," he mumbled completely defeated, "If I fail you again, I'll release you from your promise of marriage."

Erik started to pack their bags. "We just take those things we need in the next weeks, we can always come back to get the rest," he said.  
"Erik, is this another of your Erik-is-not-thinking-just-acting-stunts?" she asked, "It's late autumn and too cold to sleep in the streets."

"Yes, I know," Erik answered, "But this time I will not take any risk - I cannot go through with it alone, I need help, I need a watchdog, someone to keep a close watch over me and I know the right man for this task - he has been watching over me for so many years now and I trust him to kill me before I could actually harm you."

Christine sat down at the table as she noticed Erik was still shaking. His hangover was worse than she had expected but then he did not have just brandy he had been drinking absithe. He was in no condition to leave his flat right now. "I'd like to have some tea," she said, "Would you prepaire us some tea?"

Erik just nodded and went to the kitchen. He felt horrible and still struggled to remember what had happened and why. He could not even think of any excuse why he had started drinking when everything was just fine. Now he had worked so hard to get Christine to like him and as soon as she admitted to like him he had destroyed everything again. He had destroyed everything AGAIN and he did not even know why. He wondered if this last chance she offered him would be his salvation or his undoing - maybe he would be better off giving up and killing himself right now, for he was sure he was just delaying the inevitable. But then he did not want to die, he needed to try again - one last time.

When he returned to her with the tea she asked him to sit down with her and talk. Erik did not dare sitting at the table with her so he moved to the couch with his teacup.

"Erik, tell me - why did you drink absithe of all things?" she asked angrily.

Erik just shook his head. "I wish I knew that myself."

"Why did you drink at all? You yourself told me that you avoid drinking as a rule for you are afraid of the effects alcohol has on you."  
Since when had he ever followed a rule? Of course he did not dare to say that. "Because..." his thoughts raced as he tried to figure out an answer. Finally he could say nothing but the truth: "I was scared. My main goal was suddenly within my grasp and suddenly did not seem like a distant dream but something that really could come true - and that scared me so much, I couldn't sleep but I was so weary and wanted nothing but sleep... I needed something to... to... numb my feelings. It was a horrible mistake. I know it is difficult to believe, but when I saw you, I really thought I was dreaming and in my dreams I can say things I'd never dare to admit when I'm awake, not even to myself."

"I'm so glad you did not actually touch me," she murmured.  
"Me too!" he exclaimed, "I think I might have realized at some point that this wasn't a dream or a halluzination."

"Erik, tell me - did you ever do anything indecent to me and I know nothing about it?"  
When his ears took on a bright red colour she could tell that he blushed behind his mask.  
"What did you do?" she asked.  
"Spare me... I cannot talk about that," he whispered, "You do not want to know."  
"I insist!"  
"I... I did nothing like that since I started to pretend to be an angel. I swear, even I would never dare to commit such blasphemy. Only... before... I watched you in your dressing room..." He trailed of, staring at the floor and silently begging her not to press him for details. She realized that she really did not want any details, so she kept silent and watched him lowering his head in shame, trying to hide from her gaze.  
"I'm so sorry," he whispered, deeply ashamed of himself. Part of him wondered why he felt shame only when he had to confess his deeds to somebody, he never felt any shame as long as he was alone and no one would see him or ask him anything.

They both fell silent for quite a long time, then Christine said: "One more condition: No more lies. You are not allowed to tell me one single lie, if you do, you release me from my promise to marry you."

Erik nodded. Right now he would have agreed to everything, for he felt he deserved to be punished but he wondered himself how long it would take until he changed his mind and started cheating again.

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 _Has Erik finally understood that he is his own worst enemy?_


	25. Chapter 25

**Madness and Hope**

A frantic knock on the door woke the Persian from his sleep. He rushed to the door, expecting to see an agitated Raoul who had found out something about Christine but it nearly gave him a heart attack when he saw who stood before his door.

It was Erik, holding a suitcase, and Christine.

The Persian grabbed their arms, shoving them inside, then he closed the door. He was too stunned to say anything, he could only stare at those two.

"I need your help," Erik said, putting down the suitcase. It looked like Erik had decided they would move in.

The Persian gasped for breath in his astonishement. "You... you have the audacity to come here and demand my help? Why would I do that?"

"Because..." Erik started to say something, then gave a sideglance to Christine and took a different turn: "There is no one else I could ask."

"And what do you want me to do?" the Persian demanded, building himself up before Erik with his arms crossed.

"We need a place to stay for the night," Erik answered and Christine nudged him with the elbow, "A few days... Ouch... maybe even longer."

"And why on earth would I take you in after all you did to me?" the Persian asked, unyielding.

"What did I do to you?" Erik asked slightly bewildered.

This was too much. The Daroga grabbed him at the collar and yelled at him: "What did you do? You tried to kill me, you bastard! You tried to murder me in cold blood! And now you have the colossal audacity to come here and DEMAND - not ask - DEMAND that I help you?"

"You said you would forgive me?" Erik defended himself.

"I said, I WOULD forgive you IF you ever asked my forgiveness!" the Persian hissed.

"You never apologized to him?" Christine inquired, furiously. When Erik did not answer she took it that he really hadn't even thought about the need to apologize. "You really ought to be down on bended knees begging for forgiveness!" she berated him.

Erik found himself cornered. He could do nothing but to humble himself and apologize to the Daroga, though he did not like it. He closed his eyes and remembered Christines words about this being his LAST chance. He could not let his pride - or what was left of his pride after his last shameful blunder - destroy everything now. Now he was at their mercy and there was nothing he could do exept killing them, but that was no option either. So he bent his knee and said low-voiced: "I am sorry I tried to kill you and I beg your forgiveness."

The Persian's jaw dropped as he saw Erik at his feet. That was something he had never expected to happen, on the contrary, he had always thought Erik to be too proud to bow to anyone. Eriks eyes sparkled and he sneered for a moment when he saw the Daroga at a loss of words, but then he controlled himself and lowered his head. After all, they were right, he had tried to kill his friend and that was something he really should apologize for. Not that anyone ever had had the chance to apologize to him for trying to kill him... The Persian stood there, looking at Erik and Christine. Right now he was not sure Erik was in control of the situation any longer, right now Christine seemed to be the one in charge. Whatever had happened between these two, Erik was defeated and had finally capitulated to her. The Daroga suddenly felt the urge to take his hat off to her, but he didn't wear a hat right now.

"I forgive you," he said and offered his hand.  
Erik slowly got up and took his friends hand deeply ashamed by his friends kindness.

"Tell me now, why do you need a shelter for tonight?" the Daroga asked as he led them to his livingroom, lightening the gaslights.

"She doesn't want to live beneath the opera any longer, and to be honest, I need someone to... keep strict watch over me so... I won't do anything I have to regret afterwards," Erik confessed.  
"You WANT me to keep a close watch over you?" the Daroga asked, he could not believe that was actually happening, it must be some weird dream. Or had he finally gone mad and was suffering from hallucinations?  
"Please," Erik whispered, "I need help."

"First you tell me everything!" the Daroga demanded. Erik rolled his eyes, he was tired and certainly did not wish for an interrogation but he knew he could not avoid that now.

"I really need some coffee," Erik said, "Could you please be so kind and fix me some?"

"Mademoiselle, what may I offer to you?" the Persian asked, now remembering his manners.

"Just some water, thank you very much. And for him - I think he needs a really strong coffee..." Christine answered with a meaningful glance at Erik who was sitting down unsolicited at the table and rested his head in his hands, massaging his temples. He still suffered from his hangover and facing an interogation wouldn't help him.

It was early in the morning when the Daroga finally decided he had to stop the questioning for he realized that Christine had fallen asleep in her chair and though he would have loved to put Erik through the mill he could not do that to the lovely girl. Erik had a horrible headache and sat at the table, his arms folded on the table, his head buried in his arms. The last hour his answers had mostly been groans.

"Please, Daroga, just kill me and be done with it!" Erik moaned.  
"It seems we should go to bed now", the Persian said, "Mademoiselle can sleep on the couch in the livingroom and you... I don't have a guestroom but... you can sleep on the couch in my bedroom."

Erik looked up at him, bewildered. "You really think you would get any sleep when you know that I am in the same room? After all you know about me and all I did to you?"

The Persian smiled at him. "You remember when we were young? Remember our trips to the beautiful places in the Elburs Mountains? We had to share a small tent and I slept quite well. You did not kill me then and you had much reason to get rid of me for I was the one spying on you. Why would you do it now that you need me alive? I rather think you will be the one suffering insomnia - I know you do not sleep well if you are not in your fox's den."

Erik yawned. "I can barely keep my eyes open right now, my head hurts like hell - I just want to lay down, I need rest."

Darius, who was somewhat hard of hearing, did not get any of this. The more he was taken off-goard when he got up to prepaire breakfast for himself and his master and found a beautiful young lady asleep in the living room. When he went to wake his master, he stood frozen with shock when he got a glimpse of another man in that room, a man who had his face covered with a mask even when he slept.

 _xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx_

 _It seems Erik has finally decided to do the job properly._

 _Has anyone else noticed that the Daroga is acting quite different from what we know of Leroux's book? Well, having Erik standing in his flat uninvited after that murder attempt and demanding help and not even bothering to apologize... I think Erik really has to apologize for what he did to his old friend._

 _By the way - who needs an enemy when having a friend like Erik? You better be prepaired for him to stand in your flat in the middle of the night and tell you he was moving in for some indefinite time and you should be aware that he might have the evidence of his latest misdeeds with him, hiding them in your storeroom. Be thankful if he does not try to bury a body in your garden._

 _PLEASE REVIEW!_


	26. Chapter 26

**Madness and Hope**

The Daroga just needed to move towards Erik and Erik was on his feet, ready for a fight, before he actually knew where he was. Eriks old reflexes still worked and when he had always had only a very light sleep with his sense of hearing alert like any feline predator would. Only when he really felt save he would be able to fall into a deep slumber, but that was only when he had been able to wall himself in, something he had in his house in the cellars of the opera - but right now he was alert as if he had been sleeping in a wood with dangerous predators around.

When he realized he was just standing there with his friend, he allowed himself to relax and sit back on the couch. He was still tired but the Persian obviously did not want to allow him to go back to sleep. "You should have been more careful, you irresponsible booby, I could have killed you," Erik groaned, "I think next time I rather sleep somewhere else - certainly not in your room!"

"Good morning to you too," the Persian scoffed, "Now that you are done with your morning exercise of murder attempt - do you like breakfast?"

Erik rolled his eyes and clenched his teeth. This was not going to be easy on him.

The three of them had their breakfast, all of them tired due to a lack of sleep the last night, when the Daroga asked Christine if she really wanted to stay or if he could take her somewhere else.  
"She wants to stay!" Erik exclaimed.  
"Erik, she can answer for herself!" the Daroga scolded, "You are my guest now, so kindly behave like a guest." Erik glared at him but did not answer.

Christine's answer surprised the Persian: "I want to stay with Erik and I want to help him find an employment so he can build up a new, honest and respected life. If you are so kind to take us in for some time I would be very grateful. You see, right now we can't rent an appartement, we do not have any money."

"You are with him of your own FREE WILL?" the Daroga asked and she nodded.

Erik beamed with pride and used his ventriloquism to retort: "Told you so, you mistrustful bloodhound!"

* * *

This time Erik had no chance of delaying his job seeking. The Daroga was not as easyly fooled as Christine and since Erik himself had asked him to keep a close watch he did just that, to a point where Erik asked him annoyed if the Daroga wanted to supervize him even in the bathroom or if he was allowed to go there alone. The Daroga was tempted to point out that the window in the bathroom was small but large enough for Erik to escape, commit theft and sneak in before anyone would notice his absence but he did not because Christine was there too.

The Persian found his appartement rather overcrowded - it had never been meant for more than two people, that was him and Darius, and now they had Erik and Christine there. Well, Christine was no problem at all, she was polite and decent. Erik on the other hand had the habit of turning everything upside down as soon as he arrived, even when he tried not to cause any trouble.

The Persians appartement did not provide enough rooms. He had a bedroom, a livingroom, a bathroom and a toilet, a storeroom, a kitchen and a cabinet, that was Darius room. Erik had the idea that Darius could move to the kitchen so the Daroga could take his room and Christine the bedroom. Erik himself would clear out the storeroom and make it his room. The Daroga decided he would have none of it. "It is MY apartement and you don't even want to stay here any longer than absolutely necessary!" he berated Erik, "So not one piece of furniture is to be moved and don't even think of making yourself at home! Go and find yourself a job!"

That was really a problem. Erik had enough ideas what he could do but to actually go somewhere at daytime alone and ask for an employment was something Erik did not find the courage to do. He actually did write letters to ask for a job but going out and interacting with people was something else. Finally he got some answers to his letters and there was no way to avoid actually going to meet somebody.

"Erik, what is so difficult in going to an appointement?" Christine asked.  
Erik stared at the teacup in his hands. "They will see my mask, stare at me and ask me to wait outside and then send me away. It's so humiliating," he complained.  
"You are scared of people," Christine said, finally she understood, "You are afraid of people like I am afraid of rats and spiders."  
"I'm not scared of anything!" Erik snapped at her, "I could kill them if I wanted to." That was a childish reply and it told her and the Daroga everything they needed to know. Erik was as scared of people as they were scared of him. Christine tried to imagine what it was like for Erik to pass through a crowded street - if she would have to walk over a street with hundreds of spiders and rats she would never leave her room.  
"Erik, you do not need to be ashamed," the Persian tried to comfort him, "I am afraid of dogs, you know. I just never imagined that YOUR weakness would be your fear of people, or better of crowds of people. I thought you just hated people as a rule but I never imagined that you..."  
"I am NOT scared!" Erik yelled at him, "I am not scared of people, not even crowds of people, THEY are scared of me and they are rightfully scared to death at my sight for I am a predator!"

They fell silent. The more Erik was denying his fear the more they were convinced that they had finally found out Eriks weakness.

"I'll help you," Christine offered, "I could accompany you to your appointement. It helped with your last job, didn't it? So maybe it works again."  
 _XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX_

 _Of course Erik is scared of a crowd of people - he knows how easyly a crowd can turn to a violent mob._


	27. Chapter 27

**Madness and Hope**

When Christine did accompany Erik to his appointements she finally understood his reluctance to talk to people. Even those who had been eager to meet anyone for they had many positions to fill in their company would turn him down. Even when Erik managed to stay calm and explain that he had to wear that mask due to his severe defacement, they would not hire him at least not in a job that would allow Erik to earn enough for both of them - and sometimes Erik would loose his temper and say things that had better been unsaid. The only offers he got was for low-skilled jobs and that was nothing he would be able to endure for long.

After two month Erik was finally too frustrated to try again. He had - at least with the guidence of Christine and the pressure from the Daroga - done everything in his power but it had gotten them nowhere. Nothing.

"Maybe we are doing this the wrong way," Christine suggested, "What if I write to the managers of the opera and ask them to give me a job?"  
"And what am I to do?" Erik complained, "I could only be your servant then, for I refuse to live on your charity. Don't get me wrong, I do not mind doing the housework, but I refuse to be a servant."  
"Being a servant is nothing to be ashamed of," the Daroga said, "On the contrary, my servant Darius is my intimate friend and knows more about me than anyone else in this world. So if you need some advice you can always ask Darius how to become a good servant."

"Sod you!" Erik swore, then he realized that Christine heard him and blushed embarrassed by his own bad behaviour. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" he muttered, "It's just nerves... I'm tensed up. I think I better take a bath and go to bed, before I do or say anything else."

When Christine and the Daroga sat together in the livingroom and Erik had gone to sleep - or at least to lay down and rest - Christine gave a heavy sigh. "He really tries hard," she stated sadly.  
"Yes, he does. Mademoiselle I have the deepest respect for you. You actually managed to get Erik to listen to reason and give up on his criminal ways," the Daroga said.  
"But what for? Right now I am only understanding why he became like this. Two month and I know that he is a genius and... nothing. Nothing. He could be street entertainer or an unskilled labourer, nothing more. No one wants him in their company except for some base and servile work but I do not think he would be able to do that for long without going mad. It's such a tragic waiste!" She tried not to cry, but it wasn't easy.

She really wrote a letter to the managers of the opera, but their response a few days later was devastating.  
"They turned me down," Christine wept and Erik put his hand on her arm, trying to comfort her, "They turned me down! They wrote they need a singer who is available when needed and not one who disappears every now and then!"  
Erik got up and reached for his hat and cloak. "I'll have them groveling at your feet, begging you to return to your rightful position as primadonna!" he snarled furiously.  
"O no, you won't!" Christine cried, directing her fury to Erik, "I'd rather have YOU apologizing to THEM!"  
"Me? Why? What have I done?" Eriks spontaneous reaction only frustrated her even more.  
"YOU ask what you have done? Are you demented? You ARE the Phantom of the Opera! You blackmailed them, 20.000 Franc a month - A MONTH! - and made the chandelier crash and..." she yelled at him.  
"That was an accident," Erik insisted, "The chandelier was old and worn."  
"ACCIDENT?" Christine was really angry now "Old and worn? The opera opened 1875, the chandelier was as good as new! Don't you dare play that game with me, Monsieur Erik, DON'T YOU DARE!"

The Daroga, who had been alarmed by their voices, stood in the door open-mouthed. Christine scolded Erik and he flinched before her although he was much taller than she was. The dreaded Opera Ghost, the menancing Trapdoor-Lover, the dreadful Angel of Death now stood there like a schoolboy receiving a stern rebuke from his teacher. And she was doing such a good job in that, for the Daroga himself would never have dared to talk to Erik like that. Erik would have killed him. Right now the Daroga had to surpress the urge to applaud her.

When Christines fury was spent, she sat down at the table and tore up the letter from the managers. "It seems to me my career as a singer is over", she sighed.  
Erik knelt down beside her. "I'm so sorry," he whispered, "I... Christine, darling, I cannot even begin to tell you how sorry I am."  
"Now we are both unemployed," Christine stated sadly, "What a fine couple we are. Living on the charity of your friend. Without him we would be begging for coins on the street."  
"O god, Christine..." Erik groaned and lowered his head. He held on to her arm, his forehead resting against her shoulder, "Please forgive me! I'm sorry my pride got the better of me. Maybe I DESERVE nothing more than base and servile work. I should try that again, don't you think?"

"You speak of the cemetery?" the Daroga asked and Erik jumped to his feet.  
"How do you know of the cemetery?" Erik asked dumbfounded.  
"Raoul was at a funeral and recognized Christines face on one of the angel statures there. We talked to the cleric and he said you could come back any time, he rather liked you," the Persian explained.

"WE? You and Raoul?" Erik took a step back, "You side with Raoul against me?" He was suddenly terrified that the Daroga might have betrayed him even more than he already knew. What did the young Comte know by now? How dangerous was the situation?  
"No, right now I don't," the Daroga answerered, then another thought crossed his mind: "O no, I actually forgot about Raoul! I have to tell him that Christine is alive!"

Christine stepped up between the two men, she was afraid they were about to fight and she would have none of it. "Stop that, both of you! Monsieur, I don't think I am ready to face Raoul now. Please do not tell him we are here, tell him that you met me and I am well but nothing more. Please. And for you, Erik, I think we should go back and ask the clerics forgiveness, this time telling him our true names. I feel guilty for taking part in your game of lies and half-truth, I really want to apologize. The cleric was such a fine man, I think we owe it to him."

"He's not a fine man, if he was he would have given me adequate payment," Erik objected.  
"He wasn't allowed to," the Daroga cut in, "He told me your work would be worth tenfold the payment but it wasn't his money so it wasn't his decision."  
"Tenfold?" Christine asked, then gave Erik a smile, "And you thought it would be trice as much. Maybe you underestimated yourself."  
"Maybe I misjudged him," Erik mumbled, then gave a weary sigh: "It's down on bend knees again, isn't it? I wonder if I should stitch some leather patches to my trousers, it seems I'm going to need them..."

The Daroga couldn't help laughing at Erik's quip. Erik grinned and his eyes sparkled. He hadn't lost his somewhat strange sense of humor.  
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX


	28. Chapter 28

**Madness and Hope**

Christine and Erik really went back to the cemetery. It was about an hour on foot to get there. The cleric was surprised to see them, and to see them in fine clothes.  
"We want to apologize to you," Christine started, "We lied to you and we deeply regret that."  
The cleric invited them in and even offered them tea. Both accepted the hot tea thankful, it was cold and the walk had taken an hour.

"It is my fault," Erik confessed, "I am the liar. She... she is a good, decent girl, she would never have done it if I had not FORCED her."  
"Care to tell me who you really are? Under the seal of confession?" the cleric asked.  
Before Erik could stop her, Christine answered: "My name is Christine Daae and he... I only know him as Erik."  
"You may know me as the Phantom of the Opera, if you care to read gossip columns," Erik smirked.

The cleric paled visibly. "YOU are the Phantom? YOU?" he exclaimed stunned.  
"At your service," Erik gave a small bow. Was he trying to be polite or was he mocking? Christine nudged him with her elbow and Erik squirmed.

"And what do you want now?" the cleric asked, suddenly frightened by the masked man.  
"Is it true that I can have the job back?" Erik asked and the cleric wasn't sure if he was making fun of him.  
"Depends on what you are willing to do for what payment," the cleric answered, "We still only need a helper to the stonemason who is willing to help the gravedigger and the casketmaker. The one we hired after you left... he was a disappointment, so if you like to come back, the position is still open. But now that I know who you are I'm not sure if I can hire you..."

Erik answered in a low voice: "The prodigal son returning and you would send him away? I regret what I did and I want to atone for my sins. I really do."  
The cleric gave a sigh. "Report for duty next Monday at six o'clock in the morning!"

To them some things changed and some did not. Erik had to go to work but he evidently had decided living in the apartement of the Daroga was far more comfortable than returning to the small room in the cellar. Most days Christine and the Daroga went with him, Christine to keep him company and the Daroga to have a close watch over him as he had promised.

"When are you going to find yourself an apartement of your own?" the Daroga scolded him, as Erik asked him if they could get rid of the table in the livingroom so he could bring in a grand piano, "It is MY apartement, it is bad enough that you had Darius move to the kitchen so Christine has her own room and I have to share my room with you!"  
"Forgive me if I am mistaken but I was under the impression that you barely notice our presence?" Erik retorted.  
"That goes for Christine, she is a really charming guest, but certainly not for you! You keep waking me up every night!" the Daroga complained.  
"You're snoring," Erik shot back with a smirk. He enjoyed his playful banter with his friend.  
"Move out!" the Persian growled.

The cleric wondered about the strange relationships of Erik. Wherever Erik went, most times he had Christine and the Persian follow him as if the three of them were tied together. Erik would always take the lead, the Persian always berating him for something and Christine sometimes siding with Erik and sometimes with the Persian. They behaved like Erik was on parole and the Persian his keeper.

One day Erik asked the cleric about the funeral of the next day. "Is the murderer already cought?" Erik asked as if in small-talk.  
"Murderer? There is no murder victim!"  
"There is. This poor old women has been killed. The strangulation mark is well hidden under her collar but I recognize strangulation marks when I see them," Erik objected calmly. To him a murder victim was nothing new and certainly nothing special, he was just curious if the murderer had been arrested or not.

The cleric decided to call the police and the publical health officer. The doctor did not examine the body carefully so he did not see the strangulation mark. "Who is that labourer of yours who claims to know a strangulation mark better than a doctor?" the doctor exclaimed angrily.

The cleric had to go to look for Erik because Erik had hidden himself as soon as he had noticed the police approaching. The cleric did not find him, but he found Christine helping with the charity work in the church and the strange Persian was with her. They had no great difficulties tracking Erik down, they already knew his favourite hiding place - one of the crypts that seemed to be far too small for a tall man like Erik to hide there.

When the cleric asked him to come with him, he refused, afraid of being arrested himself. "I won't tell them anything, but the authorities do not believe it was a murder - if you want her murderer arrested, come with me and talk to them!" the cleric scolded.

Erik fought for a decision. Could he risk meeting the police? "Erik, you really should do it", Christine said.  
"You really think I could risk that?" Erik asked.  
"Depends on how much bribe-money you spent - if you gave enough to the high ranks there's no risk for you now for you officially don't even exist. No one is looking for you," the Daroga answered.  
Erik took a deep breath and decided to go with the cleric.

"If anyone asks, I suffered a severe injury to my head in the war 1871," he explained, "Therefor I do not want to take off my mask."  
The cleric - who could not know that this was not true - accepted his explanation.

Erik went into the small room where the coroner and the doctor waited with the fully dressed corpse of the old women. Erik bowed deeply, then stood bowed, his head down.

The judge asked for his name and Erik gave the name "Erik Marcus". No one questioned that, for no one cared. They did ask why he wouldn't show his face and the cleric explained that as result of an injury during the war. Since there were many men around who still suffered from serious mutilation due to the war no further questions were asked.

Then the doctor asked Erik how he came to the absurd idea that this old women had been murdered and not died of old age. Erik opened her collar and pointed out to a fine line which could have been mistaken for wrinkles on her throat. "She has been strangled from behind while she was sitting on a chair - or the murderer would have been a giant," he explained, "and he used a piano string or something not thicker than a piano string."

Now the doctor had a closer look and after a while he had to admit that Erik was right. "How could you know that?" he asked.  
Erik winced. Now he had no way to tell the truth without signing his own death warrant. "I have seen many corpses," he said, "I have been a helper to an undertaker at that time and I had to... help after executions. Not in France, that is, but... well, let's say I know a strangulation mark when I see one." That was as close to the truth as he could manage right now. To his own astonishment, no one questioned him further and Erik was dismissed, now the doctor and the coroner did their work and Erik was able to sneak away.

Christine awaited him in the workshop. Erik reached for a glass of water, his hands slightly shaking. "You did very well," Christine commended, "I am proud of you!"  
"You... you are WHAT?" Erik asked. He did not trust his ears.  
"You did the right thing. You took a risk and overcame your fears just to see justice done. That is something really selfless and I am proud of you."  
"The compliment goes to my ethics teacher," Erik replied smiling, "Or should I say, my angel?"


	29. Chapter 29

**Madness and Hope**

Raoul received a letter from the Persian who told him that he had seen Christine in Eriks company, even spoken to them and they seemed to be quite well and Erik was behaving like a gentleman. That was not entirely true but the Persian felt he had to comfort the Comte de Chagny, who was extremely worried about Christine.

Raoul sent a note back, telling the Persian to keep his eyes open because he still hadn't given up hope of rescuing Christine and seeing justice done. That letter was delivered to the house in the Rue de Rivoli - and it was Christine who found the note on the table where Darius had placed it, for the Persian was away and Erik still at work. Christine would not have opened a letter to another person but since the letter was already open, she couldn't restrain her curiosity and read it. She felt horribly guilty for she made Raoul suffer in her attempt to protect Erik. It was the same old dilemma she had faced before - she did not want either of those two to suffer but she knew she could not make them both happy.

The only thing that had changed was she. Christine found that she had become stronger, more determined, less naive and more realistic - she had actually grown up and was a mature women with the mind of a mature women. No more childish games and no more whining and waiting for some miracle to solve her problems. She would have to get up and solve her problems herself. But that would not be easy for first she needed to decide what to do.

Of course she would be able just to run away from Erik. She was nearly free now, no one would ever control her - the friendly Persian saw to that - and she could come and go as she liked. Right now it was Erik who had to bear constant supervision, as per his own request, so he would not be able to do something that would give her the right to leave him. It seemed Erik really trusted her now, he trusted her enough to leave her alone with no one to watch her in a flat where she could easily walk out and run away. But exactly that prevented her from escaping.

She felt she could not betray Erik's trust, not now, when he had more or less surrendered and reversed their situation - now it was him who was more or less a prisoner with the benefit of day parole and the Persian was having his eye on Erik all the time. She knew this was a harsh punishment for Erik and a self-imposed one. She could not run away now or she would destroy everything that was good in Erik, releasing a demon of unimaginable hatred and resourcefulness that might be almost unstoppable. She had promised to grant Erik one last chance and she would keep her word.

But she owed it to Raoul to talk to him and to release him of his promise to wait for her. Raoul needed to move on with his own life, he was young, handsome and charming, he would easily find a girl of good family and have a happy life. He deserved that.

Now that she had finally come to a decision she found she could not do it secretly. She would tell Erik that she wanted to meet Raoul and would return after a few hours. But she did not dare telling Erik when they were alone, she needed to do it in the right way so he would not snap and hurt her. She knew Erik was not always in control of his temper.

So she carefully told the Persian of her plan before Erik returned from his work. The Persian agreed with her that a decision had to be made and Raoul deserved to know the truth but he was afraid Erik might go mad and kill her. "We have to be careful," the Daroga warned her, "First, we can't tell him right away, better I tell him that Raoul is still looking for you and we need to do something to keep the Comte from trying to free you. Then you can suggest that you meet Raoul to tell him to forget you. I'm sure Erik will first loose his temper but I think I can hold him back when he is tired and unarmed. Maybe he listens to reason then."

Christine gave a sigh. Living with Erik was so complicated, she wondered how she could possibly marry him if every move she made needed to be calculated with military precision, always counting on Erik to be incalculable and extremely dangerous.

So when Erik returned home, he knew imediatly that something was not right. "Why are you staring at me like that?" he inquired. He was absolutely sure he had done nothing wrong this time.

The Daroga told him that he had received a letter from the Comte de Chagny who did not give up his quest to rescue Christine. Erik sat down at the table, it had been a hard day because it was cold and the earth was like stone so they had needed every hand to dig out the new grave. He just wanted a hot bath to get himself warmed up. "And?" Erik asked, sensing that his old friend already had a solution but did not dare tell him right away, that could only mean he would hate it.

Christine answered: "Maybe it would be best if I meet Raoul..."  
She could not go on, for Erik jumped and yelled at her: "NO! You'll never meet that bastard again! He will try to seduce you with that immodest beautiful face of his, with his obscene promises of wealth and aristocracy! YOU WILL NOT MEET HIM!"  
First outburst done, Christine thought, try to get on with the script. "Erik, please let me finish that sentence, will you? Thanks. Raoul promised to wait for me, if I release him from that promise maybe he gives up on me."  
"Then why meet him? Write him a letter," Erik suggested, trying to keep his temper in check.  
"It's not the same," Christine reasoned, "If I only write a letter he can always believe that you forced me to write that and would only double his effords to find me. If he meets me somewhere in Paris, watching me come and go freely, he will not doubt that I am with you of my own free will and has to accept my choice."

Erik sat down again, massaging his temples and trying to control his emotions so he would be able to think clearly. "Can't we just leave France?" he asked.  
"Erik, no more of your just-acting-not-thinking stunts!" Christine scolded him. The Daroga smiled. He really admired the young women for her ability to deal with Erik.

"Very well, but only under a few conditions," Erik answered, "First, you meet him in a public place in the city and certainly nowhere where he could kidnap you."  
"YOU are afraid of HIM abducting me?" Christine asked, "YOU of all people?"  
"Yes, me of all people!" Erik scoffed, "Second, I want to know exactly when and for how long you will meet him. Third, I do not want you to toy with my feelings. I still want to marry you. You do not have to love me to become my wife, it is enough if you respect me. A relationship based on respect can be enough for a marriage. I certainly do not only love you but I have grown to respect you. I want you to give me a REAL chance to a REAL marriage, do you understand that?"

Christine had to think about that. Would she really want to marry him? She did not feel love but she certainly felt that she liked him and she certainly did not want to leave him. Respect him? Maybe. She wasn't sure what she really felt for him, it was something so mixed-up, she could not possible tell. But if she told Raoul that she would release him of his promise to wait for her - surely Raoul would marry someone else? When she had decided to stay with Erik, maybe she could really marry him? Somehow she felt she liked Erik despite all his character flaws and despite the tiny voice in her head telling her that she really should not like Erik for he was a hardened criminal, but then... in the last months he had tried to be good for her. Maybe there was hope for him?

"I agree," she finally said, "But I do not want to decide about our wedding before... before next year."

"It IS the next year," Erik answered, „Or do you refer to another year?"

„It is WHAT? Did we really miss Christmas?" Christine asked stunned. How could anyone loose track of time so entirely to actually miss Christmas?

The Persian answered: „I am no christian, I never celebrate Christmas."

Erik added: „Why should we celebrate Christmas? We are no children, are we?"

„But… Christmas…" Christine muttered with tears in her eyes, „Christmas is such an important holiday, I want… I wish to celebrate it, go to church and…"

„I'll be more careful in the future," Erik promised, „We won't miss Easter or any other holiday again now that I know it is important for you. I'm sorry, I didn't know it was that important to you…"

 _XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX_

 _Erik has much still to learn, hasn't he?_


	30. Chapter 30

**Madness and Hope**

The Persian went to the Comte de Chagny and told him that he had received a message from Christine Daae that she would like to meet him.  
"She CAN meet me?" Raoul asked, "How is that possible?"

The Persian shrugged, not daring to tell too much. "She could have gained Eriks trust," he suggested.  
"That's Erik's downfall!" Raoul exclaimed hopefully, "I'll have a carrige waiting and rescue her."  
"NO!" the Daroga commanded sternly, "No, you will do no such thing. As far as I understand it, Christine is determined NOT to betray Erik. I have to admit that I do not understand that, but I'm afraid she will not go with you."  
"Then I have to force her," Raoul said, "As per her request. She KNEW Erik had ways to manipulate her so she would not be able to run from him and I would have to rescue her even against her will."

That was something the Persian had not expected. He had counted on the young Comte to be a gentleman and accept Christines decision. "Just one condition," he said, "If you are to meet Christine, you have to promise me to accept her decision whatever that will be. If she asks you to take her away, by all means, do it. But if she decides to stay with Erik, please, accept that."  
"You really believe she might decide to stay with that monster?" Raoul asked, not trusting his ears, "Very well, I certainly do NOT think so. As soon as she is out of his reach she will run away with me, but if the impossible happens and she really prefers that vile creature over me, I have to accept that for I am not a loathsome scoundrel who would force himself upon her. But this is not going to happen!"

The Persian felt uncomfortable when he told Christine about the meeting in a restaurant near the opera he had arranged for her. They wisely had chosen a time for their discussion when Erik certainly would not be at home for they could not risk him knowing too much.

"I'm afraid Erik might suspect something like that, therefor we must not allow him to know the exact meeting point," the Daroga stated, "As far as I know Erik if he knew he would certainly do something to make sure you wouldn't be able to betray him. We can't take that risk, even when you are willing to trust Erik, I certainly do not. On the other hand I am not sure what he might do if you leave him... He might relapse into utter madness with some disastrous consequences. I'm quite sure I couldn't stop him."  
Christine smiled at him: "That will not be necessary. I am no longer a wide-eyed child with her head in the clouds. I have made my decision - I give Erik this one last chance and if he doesn't fail I will agree to marry him."

The Persian shook his head. "I don't understand why you would marry that monster Erik."  
Christine answered: "And I do not understand why you are his friend after all he did to you."  
"Maybe we are both crazy after all," the Persian suggested with a sigh.

That night the Persian asked Erik: "Suffering insomnia again?"  
Erik turned his head and looked at his friend. "You two are working together to betray me, aren't you? This meeting with Raoul is just a way to free her. You know that I will kill you for your betrayal?"  
"She won't leave you, she told me herself that she is willing to give you that chance to win her hand in a real marriage", the Daroga replied softly.  
"My dear old booby," Erik loughed softly, "You must think me mad to believe that! You, the DAROGA, being that naive... no! I am sure she will leave me for good. I just don't understand why she doesn't simply tell me that I have failed and it had been my last chance. Maybe she expects me to do something... terrible." Erik gave a sigh. "I really tried to be good, to be good FOR HER. You know it is not easy and I know I have much still to learn but I really think I might have had a chance of living a normal life."

Both fell silent for a while, then Erik went on: "I'm so tired of this constant struggle. Right now I think it would be best to return to my tomb and wait for my death."  
"Erik, as long as there is hope you mustn't give up!" the Daroga tried to comfort him.  
"Maybe it is YOU who is the madman," Erik retorted, "I'm crazy but you had been quite sane in the last years... Right now I want to believe in fairy tales like a child, hoping for a miracle. I have a few days left and I will try everything to show her that I really try to redeem myself. Today at the cemetery... I went to the church and lit a candle. It seems even I turn to religion when I have nothing left."

"What will you do if she really goes away?" the Daroga asked, waiting for a temper tantrum form Erik that never came.

"I'll just die," Erik answered, "Of course I could take revenge but what good would that do? Even if I could blow up the whole city of Paris it would not bring her back, it would not bring me peace." Erik sat up and his glowing eyes fixed the Persians, sending cold shivers down his spine. "Daroga, I need your help, one last time."

"Yes?"  
"When she leaves me, kill me when I suffer the inevitable breakdown. Do not let me live long enough to recover for then I'm afraid no one and nothing will be able to stop me, not even myself. Remember that night at the opera and kill me before I actually do something equally diabolic. Please, do me that last favour," Erik begged.  
The Daroga stared at him. Erik seemed to be sane right now and have a certain amount of self-reflexion.  
"Please, I want it to be your hand that puts me down when I need to be put down," Erik insisted.  
"Erik..." the Persian tried to hold back his tears. He wasn't sure he would be able to kill Erik, not when Erik had layed bare his feelings like that. But then he knew that Erik was right, he could not risk Erik going into a killing fenzy when Christine really betrayed him. "I promise," the Daroga said, his voice raspy.

"Thank you," Erik mumbled and lay down. The Daroga hadn't expected Erik to relax and fall asleep now but after he had given his promise Erik did just that, Erik really seemed to be relieved.

It was just three days and in these three days Erik tried to spend every minute with Christine, begging her to sit at the workshop for he needed a model for a new angel, one he really needed to get finished. This time he did not keep silent, he confronted Christine with his suspicions and fears.  
"Erik, I will not leave you," Christine assured him, "See this as the final test to proove your love to me - a marriage has to be based on trust in each other. I trusted you enough to return to the opera again, didn't I? Now I ask you to do the same for me - trust me. Trust me that I will come back."

Eriks hands were shaking so badly, he dropped his tools. "I'll try..." he whispered. The final test to proove his love to her... final test... proove his love... these words echoed in his head and he had no idea how to understand that. Would she marry him if he prooved that he trusted her?

The day before Christine's meeting with Raoul Erik fell ill. He suffered fever and vomiting and diarrhoea so badly, he could not go to work. "Another breakdown," the Persian sighed, "And the meeting is not even today. That will be a challenge."

Erik was quite responsive and tried to dismiss his sickness as just having eaten something he couldn't stomach, but Christine and the Persian knew better. Erik was a nervous wreck and there was nothing they could do to help him. At least they could be sure now that he would not be able to harm anyone, in the evening his fever reached a level that left Erik bed-ridden.

The day of the meeting was a Sunday. Neither of them had slept much in the night, especially the Persian who had not dared to go to bed because he did not know if Eriks fever would break or not - right now a sick Erik was less dangerous than a healthy one.

When they sat at the table to have breakfast, Erik joined them. He was dressed in one of his finest suits but his mask was wet with sweat and his hands were shaking, giving away his fever. Nevertheless Erik was determined to pretend everything was normal.

Only when the time came Christine had to leave, Erik could no longer keep up his pretense. He started to talk in a normal voice which became more and more piercing. "Christine, darling, you know what you promised? You remember that you have to come back? Christine, you are a turstworthy girl, are you not? Will Christine come back to her poor Erik? Erik has been good, hasn't he?"  
"Erik, I will come back," Christine assured him.  
"Better do so!" Erik suddenly yelled ad her, "Better you come back in time! Three hours, remember? You are to come back after three hours or something dreadful will happen and Erik will not be responsible for anything, their blood will be an Christines hands! Erik will answer for nothing!"  
"Erik stop that!" the Daroga seized Eriks arms and tried to pull him back, "The more you frighten her the more you push her away from you!"  
Erik managed to break free despite his weakened state. He fell to his knees at Christines feet, took her hands and held them tightly. "Christine will come back for her poor Erik?" he asked, now whining again. Obviously he had some sanity left and was still able to understand what they said to him.

Now the Daroga decided he had to take over control of the situation. "Mademoiselle - please go now or you will be late for your meeting. I'll take care of Erik." He pulled Erik to his feet and held him tightly, allowing Erik to rest his masked face at his shoulder.

When Christine left the door she heard Erik scream as if he was in horrible pain.

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	31. Chapter 31

**Madness and Hope**

Raoul waited anxiously in a private room in the restaurant. He had to meet her in a public place but he wanted to talk to her in private so that was the best he could do. Christine was a little late, she wore a dark blue dress and a hat with a veil covering her face. When she removed her hat Raoul was relieved to find her pale but healthy.

Raoul could not stop himself from embracing her and she did return his embrace but when he tried to kiss her she turned away. "Raoul, no. Let's talk first," she begged.

They sat at the table when Christine told him that the last months with Erik were not really bad for Erik was trying hard to be good and to please her.  
"He killed my brother!" Raoul blurted out, "Have you forgotten what he did to us?"  
"No, Raoul, I have not and never will," she answered, "But somehow I feel it is my duty now to stay with Erik. I gave him one last chance - and he is doing quite well so far. If he manages to keep that up, I will become his wife. Therefore, my dearest Raoul, I release you from your promise to wait for me. Find a decent women from a good familiy and marry her, have children and be happy. It is YOUR life, Raoul, and I'm sorry I can't share it with you."

Raoul felt as if his heart had been ripped from his chest. "This can't be true, Christine," he pleaded, "What kind of spell did he use? How could he manipulate you like that?"  
"Nothing but compassion," Christine said, "I was not sure this morning if I could really go through with my promise to tell you goodby, but when he let me go alone while he stayed in the hands of a man whom he had made pledge that he would kill him if I do not return because he is afraid to relapse into madness... Raoul, I can't leave him now. I cannot abandon him when he needs me most. I would never be able to forgive myself if I broke my word now."

No matter how Raoul tried, he could not persuade her to go with him and he would not – could not – try to force her to come with him. Christine was determined to keep her word. Finally he gave up with a sigh: "I will wait for you. I want you and no one else so I will wait."  
"But I will marry Erik of my own free will," Christine replied, "I don't want you to wait for me."

"Then tell me that you do not love me," Raoul demanded.

"I can't," Christine said sadly, "I refuse to lie to you. I still love you but I can't leave Erik."

"I will wait," Raoul promised stubbornly as they parted. He wept bitterly and Christine felt horrible. She had hurt the two men she loved most in the world, she had broken their hearts but neither one would give up on her. But the decision had been made - she would not leave Erik, but she knew she would forever feel guilty for what she had done to Raoul now.

* * *

When Christine returned to the flat in the Rue de Rivoli, Darius opened the door for her and told her to be quiet, Erik had clearly gone mad and she mustn't provoke him.

Christine sneaked to the door of the main bedroom, she could hear Eriks muffled voice: "She's gone and will never return! I KNEW she wanted to leave me, I knew it!"  
"Yet you let her go nevertheless," the Darogas calm voice replied, "You did the right thing, Erik."  
"Every time I do the right thing I regret it bitterly," Erik wept.

Christine pushed the door open a bit. She saw Erik sitting on the floor, holding on to a large pillow in which he had buried his face. She saw small washcloths had been strapped to his ankles and his wrists and a washcloth was on his neck. Obviously Erik had build up fever again and the Persian was trying to cool him down.

Christine pushed the door open and said softly: "Christine has returned to her Erik."  
Erik lifted his head and he stared at her. "Daroga, kill me now before it's too late, I'm already hallucinating. I see her standing in the door," he mumbled.  
The Persian stared at her and said: "I see her too... but I can't believe it."  
Erik let go of the pillow and crawled to her until he knelt at her feet. He lifted his hands as if to touch her but then he did not dare for he was too afraid his hands would find nothing there. "Christine has come back to Erik?" he asked in a childlike voice, still too terrified this might be a hallucination to dare touch her.

Christine could stand it no longer, she reached for his hands and took them in hers. "Erik, I'm here," she assured him. Then she moved to the couch, Erik following her on his hands and knees, he did not possess the strengh to stand up. "Erik, lay down," she ordered gently and Erik climbed on the couch and lay down, staring at her, tears streaming from his eyes.

Christine looked up at the Persian and asked him to bring her a wet towel. The Daroga did as she asked, astonished by how easyly Christine had reached Erik and calmed him. When he returned he saw Christine handing Erik a handkerchief, asking him to blow his nose. The Persian had never dared to ask that of Erik, especially not during a nervous breakdown, but he had to admit that it was disgusting to see mucus coming from that whole Erik had as a nose. To his great surprise Erik just complied, his yellow eyes still staring at her face as she was sitting on the couch next to him.

"I'm here and I will be here when you wake up," Christine told Erik softly as she placed the towel on his head, "You need to rest now."  
"I'm sorry I doubted you," Erik whispered.  
"It's okay. Let it go now, close your eyes and try to sleep." Then she started singing softly, a lullaby in a language neither the Persian nor Erik understood.

When Erik fell asleep, Christine got up and joined the Persian in the livingroom.  
"Mademoiselle, you have my deepest respect for your courage today," the Persian said.  
Christine gave a sigh. "It wasn't the first breakdown I had to deal with. Erik is... a very troubled man, isn't he? I had seen this before. But tell me, how did you know how to help him?" The Persian hadn't referred to her helping Erik in his breakdown but right now she did not want to talk about Raoul.

"He started to suffer from these fevers in Persia. He had no one else who could help him and I... at first I did not want to help him but after I had to cut him down I did not dare leave him alone when he suffered an attack," the Daroga explained.

"Cut him down?" Christine asked horrified.  
"Didn't you see the mark on his throad? When he learned that the sultana didn't reciprocate his feelings he tried to kill himself. It was a lucky coincidence I found him in time and cut him down."

"Who is the sultana?" Christine asked.

"You did not know? Erik told me that he had withheld nothing about his past, I thought you knew?"  
 _XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX_

 _Poor Raoul. He's a good guy and now has to see Christine leaving him. Christine can't make both of them happy at the same time, she has to make a decision.  
I couldn't help but place a cliffhanger here... have a nice weekend! Next week I'll publish the next chapter._


	32. Chapter 32

**Madness and Hope**

The Persian told his servant to get them tea, then he sat down in the livingroom with Christine, who was still curious who "the sultana" was.

"Erik will have my head for this," the Daroga sighed, "But then - I think you have to know. Erik was in Persia, his job was to entertain the Shah and his family. Erik was just a magician and a musician then and he was really great at both professions, I think, he really enjoyed his task. Especially one of the Shah's women - she was the favourite that time - was bored to death in the palace. She was very young, a teenager, but so was Erik that time."

Christines eyes widened: "And the Shah wasn't jealous?"

"Erik was never allowed to enter the harem alone, there were always eunuchs to watch him. Erik started a series of entertainment for her, he build a chamber which simulated different areas of the world - a jungle, a desert, an european wood... I think you know this chamber, Eriks original design was just a playground for children. Then they pretended to go on expedition, dressed like Englishmen on expedition. A childish game they could play for month, until... until it became boring to her. Erik was all too eager to please her, he loved it so much when she laughed. Her laugh was his most cherished reward." The Persian stared at his carpet with furrowed brow.

"Erik tried his best, his magic, his music - but there was a time when she was accustomed to everything he had done so far and it was boring her. She wanted something new. She then suggested he should give her a thrill to amuse her. I do not want to go into detail, just so much, their mutual hobby became murder. I don't think Erik even knew right from wrong that time, he just did what she told him to do for his sole purpose in life was to make her laugh. She pretended to like him and be his friend and when she started teaching him how to make a woman happy he did just that. Not in a physical way, even she would never have dared this, no, what I mean is, she taught him how he could provide a happy life for a woman. She taught him that one must never allow a woman to get bored, he had to keep her entertained and amused all days of the week..."

Christine pailed visibly. "That were his exact words when he told me what he was going to do as my husband... he said he would keep me amused every day of the week and take me out on Sundays."

The Persian nodded: "He does not know better. She was a devil, she twisted his mind in a way you cannot even start to imagine. He... I think he loved her, he devoted himself to her and she was a cold-hearted siren, she did not feel anything for anyone and certainly not for Erik. She used his feelings for her to make him do whatever she told him to do. Even the Shah used that for his purposes, though I am not sure just how much the sultana manipulated her husband. Erik was a clever gamesman himself but he was not able to see just how much he was being manipulated himself."

Christine could not help but pity Erik. "He would do everything she told him to do... as he now does almost everything I tell him to do," she said sadly.

"If she was the devil to lead him into disaster you are the angel to rescue him," the Daroga stated, "And I think that is exactly what Erik thinks you are."

They fell silent for a while, both of them drinking their tea.

Then the Daroga went on: "He called her "my sultana" although she was just a harem favourite and not a queen consort. One day he overheared a conversation between her and the Shah - and he knew that she felt nothing for him, he was just a tool she would use up and dispel of when it was worn out. He was so desperate then, he tried to kill himself, but I found him in time and cut him down. After that he did not stop to work for the Shah and his familiy but when I had hoped he would let go of the gruesome things he did and become the boy he had been before he fell under her spell, I was mistaken for he became even more violent. He hated everyone and everything but most of all he hated himself. He even started to call himself Erlik that time, for Erlik is the most dangerous demon in turkish myth and he played that part for all its worth. I do not know why but he still served as entertainer, as architekt, as assassin and exekutioner. I begged him to run away but he wouldn't. He still called her "my sultana" but this time not lovingly but with possessiveness like the devil claiming the soul of the damned - he became more and more violent until even she was scared to death. That was, when I was ordered to size him and exekute him, but I didn't - I warned him in time so he escaped."

Christine did not know what to say or to think, but some of Eriks strange manners made sense to her now - his prostration before her, his servility and his offer to entertain her - even when he had made his ultimatum and was waiting for their death, he had offered to entertain her with card tricks. No one had ever bothered to teach him how to court a woman so he had to rely on the only experience he had - as weird as is was.

"I followed Erik to Europe where he had become a contractor. He had a prosperous enterprise and was part of Garniers team, I really thought he had overcome his violent madness... but then the opera was finished and he closed his construction company. You know what happened then. I still stayed in touch with him and I think he needed someone to talk to so he did not avoid me. One day he did not call her "my sultana" but rather "the sultana" or "the little sultana", I found that odd at first but then I learned that he was in love with you, claiming that you loved him for his own sake at a time you still believed him to be the Angel of Music."

The both jumped when they heard Eriks voice, dark and threatening: "Finished with blurting out my secret, my dear Daroga?" Erik stood at the door, fully dressed and obviously in possession of his strength. When he saw both of them flinch he held up his hands: "Don't panic, I won't do anything. And no, I did not love the little sultana! You're just making things up, you fool, I did not even know what love is at that time. The only one I ever loved in my life is Christine!"

"That was before I was born, Erik, you do not have to deny it," Christine assured him.  
"But I have to deny it for it is not true!" Erik insisted, then added: "At least he does not even know half of the story. I have to admit that I had some feelings for the little sultana but it was NOTHING, really NOTHING like love and certainly nothing like my love for you!"

 _XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX_  
 _Okay, now I want to explain why I came to that chapter: Eriks comment on the Darogas reminder of the Rosy Hours of Mazenderan in Leroux's book. He seemed to be fond of the little sultana, if you read the book you can easily imagine that there was more than Erik just being her entertainer - at least for him. And, of course, Eriks strange behaviour with Christine..._  
 _Though I do not think Erik was actually in love with the sultana. I can easily picture them as the most dangerous psychopath/sociopath duo, with the sultana the psychopath who takes the lead and Erik the perfectly matching sociopath to carry out the tasks. The difference between psychopath and sociopath is mainly that the psychopath is unable to feel anything for anyone but himself but is able to anticipate the feelings of other people and uses that for manipulation. The sociopath however is able to have feelings (not on a normal level that is) but lacks any empathy – he's simply not able to understand another ones feelings. A psychopath/sociopath team with the psychopath being a serial killer is most dangerous.  
Usually the sociopath in such a team believes that they have some sort of relationship (not necessarily a sexual relationship) and the psychopath uses that for manipulation. Both, psychopath and sociopath have anti-social personality disorders, act impulsively, without thinking about the consequences, irresponsible, both breaking the rules and lying to themselves and others. But the psychopath can be charming, planning on long terms, diminishing the personal risk in criminal activity, living a seemingly normal life and even establishing fake relationships for his benefit. The sociopath's behaviour is more erratic, so he's seldom able to stay in a job for long or have a lasting relationship but the sociopath is able to form an attachement to a person or even a group of people. If a sociopath engages in criminal behaviour he usually does this without any regard for the consequences of his actions, taking great personal risks. While a psychopath is in perfect control of what little feelings he possesses the sociopath can be easily angered which results in violent outbursts.  
Erik is certainly no psychopath for then he would not be able to feel remorse or love, but it is easy to see him as sociopath who simply has no understanding for another ones emotions and often acts without regarding the consequences but when having to face the consequences he feels remorse for at least some time._


	33. Chapter 33

**Madness and Hope**

It took nearly one week before Erik had recovered enough to go to work. It wasn't easy for him to apologize and tell the cleric that he had been sick and not able to come, he hated to admit to any form of weakness. He knew he had to go back and try to behave like any normal man would, especially now that Christine had returned to him and had promised to give him a real chance to get her to marry him he was determined to do it right this time.

When spring came, the Daroga asked again when Erik would move out. "I have no idea," Erik answered honestly, "You know that I really work hard but I can't afford a flat - I barely manage to earn enough to pay for our food although I suspect that you never care to get even. Maybe I should start to look for another employment again?"

Christine cut in: "Yes, that is a very good idea! Erik, maybe you can continue to work at the cemetery and I will go looking for open positions. If I find one I think you could do, you write a letter first and then go to the meeting if they invite you. If you go there only with your false nose instead of the mask and I go with you I think you could do it."  
Erik nodded. He did not believe any of this would work but he did not dare denying her. If she wanted to help him he would accept it gratefully.

"Did it ever occur to you that you can't marry her before you have your own appartement?" the Daroga asked.  
"No, it would be easy - Christine and I would take the room we now share and you can have the small room and Darius the kitchen. Darius is hard of hearing and we could get wax for your ears," Erik answered innocently.  
"NO! Never! And if you two have children? Will you ask me to share the kitchen with Darius so your children have a room? No, Erik, just no! It is MY appartement and I wish for you to move out as soon as possible! Mademoiselle can stay as long as she wants to, she is a charming guest but you, Erik, you are certainly a nuisance even when you try to be friendly! Erik, you are my friend and I am willing to help you but it is long overdue that you find yourself your own flat."  
"As soon as I have a proper income," Erik promised and the Daroga just rolled his eyes. He would have to brace himself for Erik and Christine staying with him for years. And this when he had hoped for a little peace in his old age...

Christine really took it into her hands to look for job vacancies and found more than enough. Erik used the weekends to write letters, even got some appointements but he was turned down as soon as they saw him. It was frustrating but they kept trying, Erik, because he really appreciated her help and did not want to disappoint her and Christine because she felt that they had overstayed their welcome long ago and really needed to find some other place to live. She still was not sure if she would really want to marry Erik but she felt that he had become far more calm and friendly since she had returned to him from her meeting with Raoul.

One day she found a newspaper ad that the building authority had open positions and needed architects. She pointed that out to Erik and he refused immediatly.

"No, they know me and I know them. They are a pain in the backside, I had more than one problem with them - always meddling, always demanding changes, pushing everyone around, telling everyone what to do and pretending to know everything better," Erik lamented.  
"Sounds like the perfect job for you," the Daroga dryly commented.  
"What? What are you trying to imply, you booby?" Erik snarled.  
"Nothing. Just what did you do at the opera? Meddling, demanding changes, pushing everyone around, telling everyone what to do and pretending to know everything better than anyone else," the Daroga answered.

Erik wanted to retort something very rude but did not dare for Christine was sitting next to him, a happy smile on her face. She obviously liked the idea of him becoming an official.  
"I can write them a letter but I have to use the name I used when building the opera because they know me by that name. I called myself Erique Davisseau, but it is a fake name. I have all the necessary papers - more or less unfeigned - such as birth certificate, university degree and so on," Erik stated.  
"When did you go to an university?" Christine asked astonished.  
"Never," Erik answered, "I just managed to get the papers declaring me a graduate engineer from some corrupt rector of a small and mostly unknown university. That certainly is enough to qualify as architect, since I really do have all the necessary skills and knowledge." As an afterthought he added: "Only the papers to prove it are not rightfully acquired. Christine, darling, what do you think? Can I use them or would you consider that wicked? I have every knowledge and every skill an architect needs so there would not be any harm in doing that."

Christine did not know how to answer to that. Should she tell him not to use the false papers? But then, there wouldn't be any harm for Erik had already proven his skills as architect. It was a very good feeling to have Erik asking if something was right or wrong before he acted. But then there was no easy answer to his question. Finally she gave in with a small sigh and told him since he really had the knowledge like any other architect he might as well use them.

Erik wrote the letter, wondering if Christine was finally willing to make compromises in her ethical standards or if she was just too naive to realize that she was giving him contradictory signals. He had not much hope that this letter would get him anywhere but he had to try.

 _XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX_

 _We are not in the wild west, we are in France and there certainly was a building authority and as an architect Erik could never avoid dealing with them. But I expect him to have a problem when someone told him that whatever he designed did not match the building regulations…_


	34. Chapter 34

**Madness and Hope**

The answer to Erik's letter came the very next day signed by the head of the authority himself. They invited Erik to a job interview.

"That's a very good omen!" Christine beamed with joy.  
"It's unusual for the head of the authority himself to do job interviews," the Daroga cut in, he was not very optimistic.  
Erik seemed to be quite happy with the situation. "I did not know HE was the new head. We had some rather rough clashes when I was a contractor... he was a quite worthy adversary and I really came to respect him. I'm quite sure he remembers me too."  
"And this is good or bad?" Christine asked. Erik had told her most people who knew him would not even allow him to set his foot in their office.  
"I have no idea," Erik answered, "He will either give me that job or take his personal revenge on me for I made him look ridiculous when I won a legal battle against him. I am willing to take that risk, if you accompany me to the meeting. I need to know you are at my side for I don't know if I could keep myself from killing him should he choose to have his revenge."

Now Erik had another problem. The meeting was in the morning when he usually would have worked at the cemetery. He had to go to the cleric and ask for a day off. Of course the cleric wanted to know why. Erik did not know how to answer to that question. It did not feel right to tell the cleric that he was looking for a better job when this man had been friendly and had finally given him the job despite the fact that he had confessed to being a criminal.

"I have a job interview," Erik said shyly, "I'm looking for a better paid job because I need to earn enough to support a family and I have a slight chance of becoming an official. I'm sorry, I really like my work here and I am grateful for your kindness but... you see, I hope to get married and have a family..."  
The cleric smiled, as he answered: "I understand. I knew that you are overeducated for that kind of work and I wish you good luck. Just come back after your job interview and tell me if you still need the job here or - hopefully - not."

Erik did not know how to reply. He felt tears welling up in his eyes and tried to fight them back. He did not really know how to accept the kindness of that man. Finally he just said: "Thank you. I really appreciate your help. If you should ever need me - just look for Erique Davisseau."  
"Ah, I guessed that Marcus is not your real name. Thank you for trusting me with your name."  
"Erique Davisseau is not my real name but... it is the name I used when I was a contractor and I think I should go back to that name. I do not have any true name at all."  
"Then I thank you for your honesty," the cleric said. He did not like what this man had just told him. He did not want to ask further questions.

Erik went to the meeting, he was dressed properly as one would expect from a honorable architect. He did not wear his mask but his fake nose with the fake moustache. Christine went with him, she even allowed Erik to hold her hand for she noticed he simply needed someone to hold onto. Erik took a deep breath before he entered the building. "It's all-or-none now," he said.

When they went inside the building they were greeted by a group of men staring at them. Erik flinched as he recognized them all. He had had rather unpleasant run-ins with everyone of them.  
"Erique Davisseau, the hellhound!" a deep voice thundered, then a short heavy man approched them.  
Erik gave a bow mockingly "At your service."  
The short man gave Erik's hand a squeeze, Erik returned it as if they were trying to break each others bones. When they finally let go of each other both involuntarily massaged their hands.  
"What are you staring at? Back to work!" the short man scolded the other ones.

When they were in the large office the short man asked: "Now who is that charming lady?"  
"That is Mademoiselle Christine Daae, my fiancee," Erik answered with pride gleaming in his eyes.  
"Daae? Not that singer? There has been quite a scandal that a mysterious suitor snatched her away from the most eligible bachelor of Paris! I can't believe that was you!"  
"The very same!" Erik answered proudly.  
Christine did not like that Erik was showing her off like some trophy but she understood that he used this to relieve tension.

"Congratulations! Mademoiselle, I have to compliment you on taming the most ferocious of all hellhounds! Monsieur Davisseau is the only one in my whole career who stood up to me and no one except me would handle him. He gave the whole agency sleepless nights. Whenever we got a request with his name on it, every official except me would report sick," the short man said cheerfully.  
"Handle me? You were criticizing every line I was drawing!" Erik lamented.  
"I had to defend my reputation! In your plans I never found any flaws and that would ruin my reputation for finding a flaw in each and every plan."  
"O, thank you! Now, let's talk business. You have open positions to fill and by coincidence I am looking for an employment, some safe job that would enable me to provide for a family," Erik said.

"You realize that this would mean that YOU would have to work for ME and follow MY instructions?" the short man asked and Erik bit his lip and nodded. "Great!" the official exclaimed happily, "I think I will love to see YOU submit yourself to ME. And I look forward to you finding the weak points in the plans of these haughty architects who think they could ignore each and every building regulation. You remember that quarrel between us?"  
"Which one?" Erik smirked.  
"The one when you sat at my office and refused to leave before I gave you the building licence?"  
Erik laughed: "THAT was fun!" he turned to Christine to explain: "I was just sitting there, refusing to leave and he was refusing to give me the licence and when he went home I just went with him and spend the night sitting before his door, I wouldn't leave him alone as long as I had not gotten my licence. I even got my workmen to help me, in the end we were 23 men following him everywhere."  
Both men laughed and the short one asked: "Do you remember how long you stalked me? Two weeks!"  
"Actually it was 17 days. But then you said the building authority would love a grimly determined bulldog like me in their ranks."

"Now to the test. You have this plan and half an hour to tell me how many errors you see."  
Erik took the papers and started to look at them. Half an hour was not much for those plans, they were for a large building, a hospital.

When the short man said "Time is up!" Erik handed back the papers.  
"Now, how many errors?"  
"Twenty-one," Erik replied.  
"Twenty-one? Are you sure? In this plan there are only seventeen errors! I made these plans as a test for candidates, I assure you there are only seventeen errors - and not one candidate found all of them until now."  
"Seventeen apparent mistakes, yes, and four hidden errors," Erik insisted.  
"Care to tell me?"  
"Very well. First, the location. It is impossible to build a huge building like that on a place undermined by the catacombs like that," Erik stated.  
"There are no catacombs there," the short man retorted.  
"There are. Trust me, there are. If you do not believe me, I'll show you, but I'm not sure you can pass the partly collapsed area - it's quite narrow down there. Second, the pigeons. They would love a nesting site like that but I don't think the doctors would care much for dove droppings in the patio. Third, the room for the possible installation of a generator is too small and fourth you have not enough restrooms for a hospital like that one, you'll need more."

The two men glared at each other and Christine felt rather ridiculous just sitting there and waiting. Erik had told her he needed her as some sort of walking cane he could lean on should he need it, but now she did not like the situation. On the other hand she rather appreciated that Erik allowed her to witness his test so she would know for sure that he had done everything he could do.

"You can start next month," the short man said, "And beware - you'll have to deal only with the most difficult or most boring cases and I will watch you closely for your fondness of bribe-money is well known! I really look forward to pushing YOU around for a change! HA! Now I'll keep the hellhound on a very tight leash and make him dance to MY tune!"  
"I'd love to see you try!" Erik retorted defiantly.

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 _It seems they trust the cat to keep the cream..._


	35. Chapter 35

**Madness and Hope**

When they left the building, Erik was actually laughing. "Christine, darling, now we can get our own, normal flat and - dare I say it - it is really possible to get married. I have fulfilled everything and even more, I am actually able to provide a normal life for you, as I promised. I promised and I keep my promise. Are you happy?"

Christine could not really tell her feelings. Of course she was happy that Erik was really doing well so far - at least with enough encouragement and help, but then, everybody needed help now and then - but she was worried just how long he would preservere this time before ruining everything again. But then - he was right. He had fulfilled his part of the bargain and she was still bound to her word. She knew that legally he could not hold her to a promise she had given under the pressure of blackmail but she somehow felt she owed it to him. Erik really went to great lengths and tried his best to please her and somehow she liked him. But love? Love him? After all he had done to her? Love him, when she knew he could have a mood swing any time and go back to his violent ways? But if she would not marry him now, what would that make her? If she would break her promise just because it was inconvenient to her to keep it she would be no better than he was. Or rather not better than he had been because right now it was true that he fulfilled his part of the bargain.

"Yes, Erik, I am happy for you. But we do not have our own appartement now. Your friend is right, we cannot live in his appartement as a married couple, we need our own flat," she answered.

Erik had sensed that something was not right but now that she had explained it, he just shrugged his shoulders: "Next month I start to work and in the end of that month I will have my salary. Then we can pay for the rent of a normal flat, nothing too big, but an ordinary apartement would do, and with a reliable income I see only one problem and that is the same as ever - my face. If I want to rent a flat I get only offers in seedy living areas where you certainly do not want to live because normal landlords have prejudice against me because I'm ugly, even if I wear my false nose. But with you at my side I think it might work quite well. Or..." He trailed off and started to look at the paper he had, his employment contract. Then he grinned and continued: "Maybe I just need to tell the landlords just what I do every day and they will be happy to offer me a flat in a nice area before getting in too much trouble for unauthorized renovation."

"Erik! You should not abuse your office to gain personal profit!" Christine scolded him.

"No no no no no, I would not do that! I think I just tell the landlord that he has nothing to fear for I have a reliable income as official at the building authority. Nothing more and nothing less. Is that agreeable? I think every landlord wants to know the occupation of his tenants, wouldn't he?" Erik reasoned.

Christine smiled as she answered: "That's right. But why do you think of blackmail before you even consider doing it straight?"

"Just a bad habit. It's not easy to break myself of bad habits but I'll try," Erik promised, "I'll try my best because I want to be good as I promised. Remember, I did promise that if you loved me I would be good and I would do everything you tell me to do."

Christine could not tell him that she was not sure if she loved him or had just started to like him. Obviously since she had come back to him he was absolutely sure that she loved him - to him there was no other explanation for that and she was not sure herself. Her relationship with Erik was so complicated. She liked him, yes, and she pitied him for what he had to endure, she was afraid of him and she respected his effords to reform himself, which was a very hard task, all at the same time, and she felt somehow she could not abandon him, it would tear her apart. But was that love?

"Darling, what is it?" Erik asked, he must have sensed that she was not happy but could not imagine why.

Christine shook her head. "Let's discuss this when we have an appartement. And right now I think we might be celebrating for today you really made the breakthrough." Christine felt bad for right now she was not living up to her own ethical code, she did not tell him the truth when he assumed that she loved him, but then she did not know herself.

When they came to the flat of the Daroga, Erik told her he wanted to play a prank on his friend so she should just stay silent and say nothing. Erik cleared his throad, then suddenly his posture changed as if he was deeply depressed. Christine stayed behind him, she did not know what to do.

Erik opened the door and went in, the Daroga was sitting in the livingroom, obviously waiting for them. "And?" the Persian asked.

Erik answered in a low voice and even managed to have tears in his eyes: "Not so well." Christine was surprised how well Erik faked to be deeply depressed. If she had not known better even she would have fallen for it.

"I'm really sorry..." the Persian started to comfort his friend, but Erik could not hold back any longer.

"Yes, for now I am going to have my personal little revenge on all these architects and contractors who did not want me as their employee - they'll live to regret it!" Erik blurted out.

"WHAT? They really... Erik, YOU? They really made YOU an official?"

Erik laughed at his friends astonishment. "Yes, because I know the head of the office. He had always been a worthy adversary and now - what were his words? - he would love to keep the hellhound on a short leash and push me around. Well, I know him well enough - he is firm but fair and if you want to win his respect you have to beat him, which I did long ago. I do not like what the building authority is doing but I love to be an official, a man of honour."

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 _Sorry for the delay but I'm in a training camp. I managed to write another chapter nonetheless. Next chapter on Monday! Have a nice weekend._


	36. Chapter 36

**Madness and Hope**

The next day Erik decided he would go to work at the graveyard, he wanted to complete what he was currently working at before leaving. The cleric wasn't unhappy when Erik told him that he would have to quit for the next month he would become an official, on the contrary, he congratulated him and told him just how happy he was for him, the cleric was even more happy when Erik told him that he would not leave without finishing his last statue, he did not like unfinished business.

Erik's first day as an official was not easy. He had his own office, which was extremely small and far away from all the others. He rather liked that. What he did not like was that he would spend his first two weeks only reading building regulations, not only reading them but memorizing them for he would have to pass a test at the end of the two weeks. That was more than boring, but at least he understood why he had to do this. You can't play chess if you do not know the moves. Erik did pass the test but not as good as he himself was comfortable with. He could remember nearly everything that was interesting, sometimes he was surprised which information he found in his brain after decades but the building regulations certainly were not interesting and he had had a hard time learning them. Now he had started passing the test but only with medium examination performance and he was ashamed. With his intellectual level he should have done better and it was his own fault for he hadn't studied hard enough.

The third week started with a meeting were the head of the office assigned different tasks. Erik - as the lowest-ranking man - got the most unwellcome tasks. The first task seemed to be easy but it certainly wasn't. There was a building that was liable to collapse and of course had to be taken down before an uncontrolled collapse happened. All the necessary paperwork had already been done but the owner refused to move out, stating that he was born there and would die there and the police refused to remove him by force for he was an old man.

"Can't we just take down the building and pretend not to know he was still there?" Erik asked.

The short man laughed: "That's my hellhound - always telling the sickest jokes of all! By the way - you have to adress me "Sir", understood?"

Erik just growled something unintelligible.

"If you want to growl at me, it's "GROWL SIR"!" the short man rebuked. Erik sneered at that reply. He rather liked the man, but he would not kowtow to him.

"Yes, Sir, of course, Sir, absolutely, Sir!" Erik saluted mockingly, then added: "By the way - is it allowed to call an ox sir?"

"I wish flogging wasn't forbidden as a disciplinary action," the chief sighed, then gave Erik a warning: "You better be careful, Davisseu, that's your first insubordination. It's a negative mark on your file, if you have more than five negative marks in one year your employment is over. Understood?"

"Yes, Sir," Erik answered, this time really afraid to face the consequences of his bad behaviour. He certainly did not want to loose his job, did not want to confess to Christine that he had failed because of his arrogance.

After three days Erik had found a solution to his task. He asked the other officials to wait at the condemned house at midnight. They were curious enough to really go there. At ten minutes after midnight the old man came running from his house with a bag in his hand. He did not stop at the group of men, just ran away as if the devil himself was after him. A few minutes later the darkness seemed to move and suddenly Erik stood with them, a black mask covered his face and he wore a hooded cloak.

"How did you do that?" the chief asked him.

Erik chuckled and the other men suddenly felt the urge to follow the old man's example and run. "I just visited him at midnight, sat at his bed and said to him that he is in grave danger for the house is about to collapse and if he does not leave now and never come back I would have to come for him tomorrow. That's all. I think he came to his senses and realized the danger he was in, packed his bag and ran. Now you can start taking down this house."

When the others were gone the short man asked Erik: "And did you wear your mask?"

"O my, I knew I had forgotten something!" Erik smirked. The other man had already seen his face once and knew perfectly well what he looked like.  
"That is exactly why I gave you the job! You are none of those bureaucrats - your mind bubbles with plans and schemes. We have so many bureaucrats, the best ones I dare say, but we needed a creative mind like yours to deal with the uncommon problems that can't be solved bureaucratically," the short man laughed and slapped Erik on the back so hard, Erik had to be careful not to lose balance. That was another of their constant banters, that had started more than a decade ago - both men tried to prove that they were stronger than the other one. Erik was more agile by far but he was not sure if the other one wasn't stronger than he was.

Erik told Christine and the Persian how he solved the problem at breakfast and added: "I did nothing bad this time. I did not threaten him, I just warned him about a real danger, I did not lie to him for I would have to come back each and every day and warn him if he hadn't moved out. Only the time for my visit was a little bit unusual but that's not forbidden, is it?" Christine and the Daroga had to laugh at Eriks remark.  
"Talking of moving out..." the Daroga started.  
"Yes, I know," Erik said, then turned to Christine: "My darling, I think it might be the best if you start looking for a flat? I think it would be better if you talk to the landlord first for if they see me first they'll never give us the flat."

When Erik was gone, Christine turned to the Persian. "Now I need your help," she said, "You know I promised to marry Erik and right now I think he is really doing his best but... I'm so scared. Right now Erik is eccentric but sane, but I have seen his madness and I am scared that he might relapse... He'll hold me to my promise as soon as he has his own flat and I will not break my word but... I'm scared."  
The Daroga sighed. How could he answer to that? Tell her that a promise she had given under the pressure of blackmail wasn't valid? Telling her Erik was not insane? Finally he said: "If you married another man, you would have no guarantee at all that your husband would stay the way he is. I have seen so many women who suffered from abuse at their husband's hand, so many men are drinking... With Erik as your husband your risk is higher than that of most women but at least you know exactly what to expect. Erik is able to live a normal life, he did when he had been a contractor. I'm sure he can do it again."  
"But how can I marry him if I... just like him and not love him?" Christine asked.  
The Persian sighed. "I saw my wife for the first time after our marriage and the first thing we asked each other was "What's your name?". We had quite a rough time to adjust to each other but we deeply respected each other and from that we learned to love each other. Since you and Erik are getting along quite well - much better than my wife and I in our first weeks together - I think that is not the main problem. I think you still love the Comte de Chagny."  
Christine nodded: "That's true. And as Raoul promised to wait for me even after I released him from that promise... I love him even more. But I am going to marry Erik, whom I like but not love... I feel as if I was betraying both of them."

"You do not betray them for both of them know about your feelings," the Persian answered, "And Erik is much older than you, when you will be a widow you can marry again. I know it sounds cruel for Erik is my friend, but after all he's been trough I'm not sure he can hope for a average life expectancy, I rather think he has a rather short life expectancy. You are not even 21 now, you'll be not even 40 when you will be a widow, more likely about 30."  
"But I can't marry him hoping he dies soon!" Christine cried, "I don't want him do die soon! Not now, when he is so happy for the first time in his life!"  
The Daroga smiled. "Marry him. You love him more than you realize now."  
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	37. Chapter 37

**Madness and Hope**

The next day Erik got his next difficult task. He did not talk to anyone, someone just handed him a file and a note what he had to do. Erik liked this way of communication - he would just find notes on his desk and if he needed something he would send the office boy with a note. No need to meet someone, no need to speak.

When he opened the file he just laughed. It was a file that had been forwarded from one official to the other, no one really doing much for neither of them liked to do that investigation. The file was named "chandelier crash accident". Who said God had no humor? When he recovered from his fit of laughter he started to read what had already been done. There had been a police report that it had been an accident. So much for police investigations. Now it was up to the building authorities to make sure the chandelier was not to heavy for the ceiling and the anchorage would hold. There were several notes of officials complaining that those folk in the opera were utterly crazy and nearly everyone had tried to convince them that a ghost was to blame for the accident. Worst of all, Armand Moncharmin was a good friend of one Minister and so he used his influence to prevent investigations for he feared that they might cause a new scandal or additional costs.

Now what could he do? Could he go to the opera and actually talk to them? With his mask - no, certainly not. They would recognize him as the Phantom. Could he go there with his false nose and the mustache? Maybe, but they would recognize him as the man who informed them of the death of Joseph Buquet. Now that was a dilemma.

His first idea was to say he could not do it for he had been one of the contractors who build the opera house so he would have to examine his own work. That was a good idea and it got him a compliment for his honesty - Erik struggled hard not to laugh at that - from his superior but since it was well known that he had had the contract for the foundations and not the ceiling they decided he would have to do it. Being the lowest ranking architect he had no choice in the matter, even as he wrote down he was biased and could not do it he got the answer his protest had been noted but they thought he was not biased and he had to do it. They insisted on setting the thief to catch the thief...

After one week of trying to get rid of that task in vain he decided to ask the Daroga and Christine for help. He really had no idea what to do - of course he could always write that there had been water damage causing the anchorage to weaken and fail, but what if anyone found out it was different? The managers had believed him to be in box five with them when in reality he was up there lightening the fuse that would set of a small amount of gunpowder. Not much, just enough to shake the very spot where the huge bolts held the chain at the stones. He had known the weak spot and calculated right - his ventriloquism had done the rest.

Now it seemed his past caught up with him and he did not like it.

When Erik had told Christine and the Daroga of his problem, they both fell silent.

"I CAN'T tell them the truth," Erik complained, "It would kill me. I do not even dare to go to the managers - what if they recognize me? But I can't just do nothing for then I risk loosing the comfortable job I now have. I am in a terrible mess right now."  
"Yes, you are - and you are the only one to blame!" the Daroga started a lecture, "How often did I tell you NOT to commit crimes? After you promised me that you would never commit any crime at all, that is?"  
"Spare me!" Erik whined, "I need your help, not your scolding!"  
"Ah, and how can I help you when you heed my advice like you did the last thirty years?" the Daroga retorted. He liked to see one of Erik's schemes backfiring at him, maybe that would teach Erik to behave in the future. Erik had always managed to run from the consequences of his misdeeds.  
Erik rolled his eyes. "YOU were the one who told my this would be the perfect job for me - but right now I cannot choose to do the right thing I can only choose between different wrong things to do. Christine, darling, I do not want to disappoint you but right now I can only do something bad - but that would mean to fail you and I would have to release you from your promise to marry me - Christine, what can I do? Please tell me what to do? I can't loose you now, not when I'm so close..." Erik was weeping now, he felt horrible and had no idea what to do.  
Christine had no idea either. When she thought about it she found she did not want Erik to be imprisoned for his crimes, even when she knew he deserved it. She did not want him to commit a new crime to cover his old misdeeds but right now she could not find a way out that would not include a new crime.

It was the Daroga who came up with a solution: "Everything has already been repaired in the opera, hasn't it? So you just check if the repair work has been done properly."  
"Yes, but... what... just a moment, this might be a night job again. Yes, that is the best idea! I write to the managers... o no, they would know my handwriting... no, Daroga, I dictate the letter and you write it... that I have to do this job but as a music lover I would do my work in the night when I won't disturb anyone as a small favour to them. Then I can really go there and check everything, write a nice little report and be done with it. What do you think?" Erik was happy now that he had worked out a solution that would not force him to meet anyone at the opera, maybe except the nightwatchman but that would be no problem at all - the nightwatchman had been on the Phantoms payroll long enough. It would cost Erik something but he was sure he would manage somehow, maybe his friend could lend him that small sum he needed... though the Daroga would not have to know about the tiny loan...

Erik relaxed visibly and asked Christine if she had already found a flat to her liking.  
"Hey, I did not agree to write that letter!" the Daroga protested.  
"You have no choice, I can't ask anyone else," Erik said, "Or do you want me to loose my job and stay in your flat for the rest of my life?"  
"That's blackmail!" the Daroga rebuked him.  
"Is it really?"  
"Why don't you try ASKING for help politely?"  
Erik gave a sigh, then said mockingly: "My dear old friend, would you PLEASE be so kind as to do me that small favour?"  
"If you insist..."  
"There, and why did you make me beg you? You could have just done it in the first place and save both of us the trouble!" Erik complained.

Christine was not sure what was going on. Those two men loved their banter so much, she would never know when they were serious.  
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 _Now Erik is the one to investigate the chandelier accident - and he is in trouble again._


	38. Chapter 38

**Madness and Hope**

Erik's plan did not work out as he had hoped. The managers - who had no idea who this Monsieur Davisseau was - were happy with his suggestion to do the inspection at a time when he would not cause any trouble but they did not want him to do his work without them supervizing him. Especially Moncharmin wanted to make sure that they would not have to pay vast sums on improvements when the repair had been expensive, he just wanted to talk to that official and persuade him to write a friendly report.

They suggested he should come early in the morning, because then he could do his work without interrupting rehersals or whatever. Erik wasn't happy but in the end he had to take the risk. When he approached the managers at the great staircase he broke out in cold sweat and silently prayed his fake nose would not fall off his face.

Moncharmin really recognized him as the man he had met at their wellcome party. "Yes, I have been there," Erik admitted, glad that they had not accused him of being the Phantom, "As have thousands of Parisians, I wonder why you would remember me?" Erik found his voice odd, shaking and close to breaking.  
"We just hope you were not offended when that ballet girl called you "the Phantom"?" Firmin added, "She is a foolish girl, of course."  
Erik's thoughts raced. What could he do now? He swallowed hard and fought not to be sick when he felt his stomach turn in his fear of being recognized. "Maybe she did drink champagne for the first time," he offered an explanation, "Women should not drink at all. Well, I wasn't offended, it was more fun - there were so many people who wanted to invite me to a drink after that... I can barely remember the rest of the evening." Maybe offence is the best defence. He offered explanations and did not wait for their questions. So he pretended to be a man just remembering a funny incident at a celebration and hoped for the best, but he was ready to run the very moment they recognized him as the Phantom of the Opera.

Then he experienced something he had always wondered about: They just accepted this and went on. Neither of them connected this official Monsieur Davisseau with the Phantom, no one. That's how the human brain works, Erik mused, they just see what they believe to see and never bother to look how things they really are. Right now they saw an old official and they did not think of him being something else in his life. That's how magic works. It is not so much the magician, it's the limitations of the ordinary human brain.

Walking up all those staircases to the ceiling with both managers following him left Erik breathless and sweating. It was not the strain of climbing, it was his fear they might still recognize him or they might encounter someone who would. Erik felt his anxiety turn to panic with each passing moment and struggled to concentrate on the task at hand. The work itself was more than easy for the repair had been well done and now no one would ever be able to tell the cause of the accident. It would make a fine little report. The bigger problem was to get rid of Moncharmin who was worried about the report and came up with hundreds of suggestions how that could be worded. When Moncharmin offered a season ticket, Erik asked himself if he had overlooked anything. Why would the manager try to bribe him if everything was okay?

"Monsieur Moncharmin, you certainly understand that no official is allowed to accept any gifts," he said as coldly as he could manage. He just wanted to run away, it was hard enough to suppress his flight instinct by now - he could not take the risk to be there when the staff would show up for someone might recognize him. Moncharmin pretended to be offended by that comment for he was just trying to be nice and certainly never would have thought of bribery, never, and Erik felt panic rise in his chest. He had to get out now or he would do something stupid. "I'm sorry, I have to go now," he said, "Goodby, Messieurs." Erik wondered how he was able to function close to normal when he was panicked, sweating, shaking, sick to his stomach with fear. But then, he had been able to function in worse situations - maybe that ability to function in spite of panic, anger, madness was his key to survival.

He turned on his heel and went to one of the side doors, then managed to walk around the next street corner before running away as fast as he could.

When he stormed into the flat in the Rue de Rivoli there was only Darius at home.  
"Give me some Cognac," Erik ordered. He needed a drink.  
"I'm sorry, my master does not tolerate alcohol in his flat," Darius answered.

"Then go and get one for me!" Erik cried, "Go! You do not want me to be mad at you?"

Darius left the flat in a hurry and Erik went to the bathroom to wash his face with cold water. He wondered himself how he had managed to function normally when he had been on the verge of panic. When he felt better he left the bathroom and found Darius and the Daroga standing in the livingroom.

"I told you to get me a brandy, not a Daroga!" Erik groaned. He was in no mood for banter now. Darius disappeared into the kitchen.

"No alcohol in MY flat," the Daroga stated, "And after what you did last time you were drunk you should agree with that."  
Erik lay down on the couch. "I just want to relax," he complained, "And I need something to help me relax."  
"Find something else than drinking!"  
"Yes, usually I would play music but right now I have no instrument and I do not want to go back to the opera just now."

That moment the door opened and Christine came in. She saw Erik on the couch. "Erik, are you okay?" she asked worriedly.  
"Just a bit shaken," he answered, "It was a high risk to go to the opera and show myself. Now we can do nothing but hope. And what did you do this morning?"

"I found a nice little house for us. It's just a few meters from here, it's a small house in the backyard of a block of flats and I talked to the landlord. He wants to meet us tomorrow and if you like it we can rent it," she said, "The best thing is, that we could play music there without neighbours complaining about the noise. What's not so good is that it is next to a horse stable and the smell from the stable..."  
"I don't mind horses," Erik answered, "Better than pigs, aren't they?"

"You should go back to your workplace, don't you think? Coming home for lunch is all right but I do not think they will tolerate you taking a day off whenever you feel like it," the Daroga warned him.  
"Yes, I guess you are right," Erik gave a sigh, "Maybe I should have tried being a contractor again. Then I would at least be able to decide when I want to to something."  
"Stop complaining and go!" The Persian scolded him. That was so typical for Erik never to be satisfied with anything. Right now the Daroga felt like a father who had to bring his unwilling son to school in time. Why did everyone assume it was his duty to give Erik a kick up the backside so he would get anything done in time? No one had ever asked him if he had wanted the task of an overprotective father to that utterly childish and most dangerous excuse for a man.

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 _They do not recognize Erik as the Phantom, but they do recognize him as the man they had met at their celebration. And Erik is scared stiff at the risk of someone recognizing him as the Phantom. Now he is the one to be afraid._


	39. Chapter 39

**Madness and Hope**

The meeting with the landlord was soon enough. Erik wore only his false nose and the mustache to make sure he looked like the Erique Davisseau some people already knew. The landlord, who had spoken with Christine the last time and knew she was looking for an apartement for her and her fiance, was more than surprised to see Erik at Christines side. How could a beautiful young girl agree to marry an ugly, grumpy old man who wasn't even rich?

The small house in the backyard of the block of flats had a big room in the middle, when they went inside they stood immediatly in that room. To the left were three rooms, a very small one that could only serve as storeroom, a small one and a normal one. To the right side there was a bathroom, a toilet and a rather large kitchen. There was no ceiling so the rooms were quite high for they were directly beneath the roof truss. Erik smiled as he saw that. He liked the dark wooden roof beams. Suddenly he had a thin rope in his hand, threw it over one of the roof beams and was up there like a circus artist.

Christine stared at him, she had never seen him climb before. Erik balanced at the roof beam and examined the roof truss. "Very good!" he exclaimed, "Who is your roofer? He did a very good job with that!" Then he jumped down with a backflip, leaving the landlord even more stunned.

"What are you - a circus artist?" the landlord asked.  
"No, I'm an architect, currently working for the building authority. A quite dull bureaucratic occupation but a reliable income to pay bills... and the rent, that is."

The stable Christine had told Erik about was only meters away from the window in the kitchen. Erik asked her if that was a problem for he did not think that the smell of horses in the kitchen, the bathroom and the toilet would be a problem. Christine's opinion was that they could rent this small house and if they did not like it they could always look for another flat.

"I could place the piano here and the harp there and there will be the table and the couch over there..." Erik was already thinking of how to place the furniture.

"Now we have to talk about the rent," the landlord said.  
Erik suddenly fell back in his role as businessman, a role he had played well for years. To Christine it was funny to see him change his attitude from the playful showoff to the cold calculating businessman for even Eriks posture changed immediatly. What she did certainly not like was that Erik started to use his position in the building authority as a veiled threat to get better conditions in the rental contract. Erik knew that landlords usually build their blocks of flats bigger than they were allowed to to get more room or do some unapproved building conversions. He had done that work as a contractor for years, he knew the tricks. In the end he got a rental contract with a very cheap rent for the small house.

When they came back to the Rue de Rivoli they saw a carriage with the emblem of the de Chagny family.  
Erik took Christines arm and pulled her with him to a sidestreet. "O no, the Comte de Chagny! What the bloody hell... o, sorry - What is he doing here?" he hissed.  
Christine realized that Raouls and Eriks roles were reversed now. She could not help giggle.  
"That's not funny!" Erik hissed, "Now we have to hide until he's gone!"

"It is funny," Christine giggled, "It is funny! Very funny! Back then Raoul and I would hide from YOU, now we are hiding from him. That IS funny."  
Erik grunted something incomprehensible.  
"Maybe we could just go to the Jardin des Tuileries and go for a walk?" Christine suggested.  
"Going to a park at daytime? You and me? You really want to risk that?" Erik asked.  
"Yes, because with your false nose you look... um..." She did not want to tell him that she thought he still looked hideous but at least in a way that was endurable. She looked at him and saw tears in his eyes. "I'm sorry, I did not want to hurt you," she said. She felt guilty for hurting him like that.  
"You do not need to apologize for telling the truth," Erik snapped at her, "I know just how deformed I am - I'm nothing but a disgusting carcass."  
"That's not what I wanted to say! You are a little bit... aesthetically challenged..."  
"Aesthetically challenged? That's the understatement of the year!"

"But I want to go to the park with you nevertheless," Christine said. 

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 _A very short chapter this time - hope you like it. Please review!_


	40. Chapter 40

**Madness and Hope**

The Daroga was surprised when the Comte de Chagny suddenly came to his flat. Luckyly Erik and Christine were not there for they had a meeting with a landlord. Had Raoul come only half an hour earlier he would have suffered a shock seeing Erik and Christine sitting at a late lunch with the Persian.

Raoul had come to tell the Persian that he found out that Christine was more or less free - she had been seen by one of his stewards, asking for flats to rent. She had not known that one of the flats she had been asking for belonged to Raoul. Raoul had been informed too late when the steward had already turned her down for the flat was already given to another tenant.

"Really? She was alone?" the Persian tried to fake surprise. His thoughts raced. What was he to do now? He could not tell Raoul that he knew perfectly well were Erik and Christine had been the last months and why they were looking for a flat.

"Yes, she was alone but my steward informed me that she told him that the flat would be for her and her future husband. She really used that word "husband"!" Raoul spat the word "husband" as if it had a sickening taste in his mouth.  
The Daroga tried to answer carefully: "As far as I know she is staying with him now of her own free will."  
"No, she's not!" Raoul yelled, "Never! She told me herself that he has some spell he uses to manipulate her. I cannot comprehend the hold he has on her when she is free to go anywhere in Paris alone at any time and come back to him. I do not understand this, it is impossible!"  
"I know it is hard to understand, but when I last met her she told me that she was with him of her own free will," the Daroga said, "I'm afraid you have to accept this."

"No, I won't! I understand that she is ashamed now that he has defiled her but I won't hold that against her, never. I still love her," Raoul exclaimed, "I know that she's ashamed but there is another way to save her honour than to marry the rapist, I'll marry her even if she's carrying his child." Raoul had thought of an explanation for Christines behaviour and the only thing he could imagine was that she did not want to marry him for she had been abased and did not want to bring disgrace to him and his family.

The Daroga knew perfectly well that Erik had done nothing like that. On the contrary, he himself had to admire Erik's self-control.

The Persian had no reason not to have any mistresses and right now he had two whom he would visit regularly. Erik had no such opportunity, so he suppressed his desire very well. Living at close quarters Erik could not hide his needs entirely - at least not from his friend living in the same room - but he had an extremely high level of self-control in this matter, though the Daroga couldn't help but to notice Erik's new fondness for taking a cold bath every so often. Christine did not notice anything, Erik had so many strange habits that taking a bath at unusual times didn't even get her attention.

"I do not think Erik would rape her," the Persian said, "As far as I know he really loves her and wants her to be happy."  
"Love? That monster does not know what love is! He loves no one but himself!" Raoul spat, then added: "Why are you defending him now? Why? What happend that I do not know?"

Now the Persian was in a terrible dilemma. He was Eriks friend and Christines friend and Raouls friend. Maybe he was too good at making friends...

"I met them both," the Daroga decided to say, "And I had quite long talks with both of them. Christine has given her word that she would give him a chance to win her hand in a real marriage and he has fulfilled all of her conditions so far. I rather suggest that you give up on her."

"O, now the monster made you switch sides!" Raoul said angrily, "I see. I do not understand that - I find the same tendency to overlook his misdeeds and just pity him in you and in Christine. Are you mad? Both of you? He tried to kill all of us, he murdered my brother and now... what magic is this?"  
"I cannot understand it myself," the Persian admitted, "Erik is... unique. What you have seen is Erik the monster. But there is another side to him, he is creative, gifted and sometimes so childlike... and he struggles so hard to redeem himself..."

"So he is a master in manipulation too. I thought that much. It seems I cannot count on your help from now on, do I?" Raoul asked coldly and the Persian shook his head, "Fine. Then I'll find a way to rescue her myself!"

"Please do not do this. Remember how your last attempt to rescue her ended and this time she does not even want to be rescued! Getting yourself killed wouldn't help her at all!"

"No, I won't. Maybe you did not notice - that time I was just a desperate boy, now I am a man who runs a very large business and I gathered some experience. No, I won't do anything rush and dangerous but I will never give up. You can tell Erik to be on his guard if you meet him next time - though I suspect you know perfectly well where they live right now. Goodby, Monsieur!"

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 _Raoul is not the naive boy he has been before. And he won't give up easily._


	41. Chapter 41

**Madness and Hope**

Not long after Raoul was gone Erik and Christine returned, worried looks on both faces.

"What did he want?" Erik asked, before he had even taken his hat off.  
"Rescuing Christine, what else?" the Daroga sighed, "And I'm afraid he knows by now that I am no longer on his side. He told me to tell you to be on your guard."  
"Be on guard? HE'd better watch his back!" Erik snapped.  
"But I do not need to be rescued!" Christine cut in, "Today we found a nice flat and we can move there right away. If I wanted to run away I could do so every day for Erik has to go to work very early in the morning and comes back in the afternoon. I'm no prisoner."

Erik beamed with pride and raised his hand as if to touch her but he stopped himself and took a step back from her.  
"I did fulfill every promise by now, didn't I? I am a honourable man now, an official even, I have a nice apartement now... Christine, I promised to wait with our wedding until you really could marry me of your own free will and it would never be considered a forced marriage - but now I have to ask you, since you promised to give me that chance - when will that be?"  
Christine felt trapped. It was true, she had promised to marry him and she had promised to give him that chance. "Yes I did, but Erik... please... I will not break my word but I have to admit that I am scared."  
Erik just smiled. "Me too. You have no idea how scared I am, because I finally realized what responsibility I'll have to face," he answered, "But it is all I ever dreamed of. I'll have an ordinary life in an ordinary flat and do ordinary - if a bit dull - work. Christine, darling, there is no need to be afraid, I will never harm you!" After a while he added sadly: "Never again that is."

Christine looked at him. Eriks eyes pleading with her. She saw so much hope and at the same time so much fear that she might reject him there.

"I'll marry you," she said, "In that small church at the graveyard."  
Erik was so happy, he held his arms out as if to embrace her. Just a moment later he took a step back, begging her forgiveness.  
"It's okay. You did not hurt me and since we are going to get married soon I just have to... to get used to your touch."  
"I'm sorry, I know it is not easy for you," Erik answered.

Only now did they notice that the Persian was still in the same room. He smiled at them. "Congratulations!" he said happily.

The next day Erik and Christine went to the cleric to discuss the wedding. He was not at all surprised that those two now wanted to marry, he had already wondered when they would do it. Since Christine was older than 16 she did not need a legal guardian for the wedding. "I think that is rather a silly law," the cleric pointed out, "You can decide whom you marry but you cannot rent a flat or buy a horse without legal guardian. I think the decision to get married is far more important, but that's the law."  
"I think I am fully aware of the importance," Christine said. Of course, how could she not, after all she'd been through.  
"Then I'll have to inform you of the duties of husband and wife," he said. That was always an awkward situation but he had to tell them everything the church wanted a married couple to know of their duties. "You want me to tell you now or do you wish to hear it seperately?"  
Christine blushed. She had certain suspicions what he would tell her and she looked at Erik who stared at his shoes, trying not to show his embarrassment.

"Let's get over with this!" Erik decided.  
The cleric just told them what a marriage was, what the duties of the husband were and what the duties of the wife were and then asked if they were here of their free will. Erik held his breath, he feared Christine might tell about the circumstances she had given her word to marry him, but she did not. She just said, that it was her free will. She did not add that she loved him, he noticed.  
Erik's answer was a little bit longer, he just had to say it: "I love her more than anything else and I will do everything for her." That was true, he had already done far more than he himself had thought he could do. He had even been able to ask for help and to accept help, which was something he had never done before, at least not with his personal problems.

"In four weeks time you can have your wedding," the cleric announced, "I'll read the notice of intended marriage the next three Sundays and if there are no objections..."  
"What do you mean, OBJECTIONS?" Erik asked mistrustful.  
"That is if one of you were already married or one of you were unable to fulfill his or her duties or if it was a forced marriage..."  
Erik flinched and the cleric could not pretend not to have seen it.  
"What's the matter?" the cleric asked, "I saw you flinch. Why? Is there anything I need to know?"  
Erik looked at Christine. He did not want to say anything for it would either be a lie or making the wedding impossible.  
Christine answered: "At first he tried to force me to marry him, yes, but then he said he wanted a valid marriage, so he would wait until I could marry him of my own free will and... He does not force me now. It is my decision."  
Erik had no idea what to make of this answer. Obviously she did not marry him because she loved him but because she felt it was her duty now. But it was her free will, wasn't it? And maybe she would learn to love him if he conducted himself well.

"You are aware that a marriage is only valid when consummated?" the cleric asked.  
Christine blushed and Erik stared at the cleric in shock. "But it is a sacrament?" he asked helpless.  
"Yes, that's why I do not want to administer a sacrament to you that is not valid and can be nullified."  
"Can we discuss that one moment between us? Alone?" Erik pleaded. Now he had to face the argument he had dreaded for so long.

The cleric said he'd just go to get some water for them and left the room.  
"Christine, I can't force you to do this," Erik stated sadly, despite the fact that he really wanted to say the opposite so badly, "I know how disgusting that... my body is... I am."  
Christine smiled. She was relieved to know he would not insist on his rights from the beginning. "As far as I know there is no deadline - we can take our time," she said.  
"Yes, that is a wonderful idea! We're just taking time, no problem..." He pretended to be happy when he was deeply hurt that she had just jumped on the thought without any objection. He had hoped for a miracle - that she would agree to be his wife and fulfill all wifely duties, maybe that she would even tell him that she got used to him and he wasn't that disgusting. Well, another childish fantasy of his. Nothing more. But he did not allow himself to complain for he was already getting more than he had hoped for his entire life - he should be thankful.

Christine sensed his discomfort and tried to soothe him: "No man has ever touched me in that way... I'm scared like any bride is, that's all."  
Erik snapped at her: "There is no need to lie to me. You told me never to lie to you again and I expect you to do the same!"

Christine knew by now that Erik reacted in an aggressive way if his feelings were hurt. She pitied him, but would pity be enough to overlook his defacement? The scars on his thin body? Erik shifted and turned away from her and suddenly she saw the small line on his neck, the scar from his suicide attempt. She wondered how she had never noticed that before.

Christine put a hand on his shoulder. "Erik, I will be your wife with every right and every duty. But you have to be patient with me, I need time to adjust, that's all," she said. Erik looked at her and nodded. He did not dare to believe her but he was ready to play that game. A game again... but at least it wasn't he who forced her to play it but her own idea. That was an improvement.  
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 _Thanks for reading! Next chapter will be up next week (if I survive the heat - it's 40°C here). Thanks for the many reviews! I really appreciate them! :-)_


	42. Chapter 42

**Madness and Hope**

Moving his furniture - or at least part of his furniture - from the flat beneath the opera to the apartment was another problem. Erik simply did not have the time, he had to go to work. He would need someone to help him and finally decided that he would never go back there again, no matter what, he could risk asking the Persian and his servant for help. Three strong men would do the task in much less time. But before that he had to take down the traps for he could not risk that his friend was caught in one of them now. And... he would have to dispose of the nitroglycerine. He had not as much as he had pretended to have but it was enough to blow up the flat and thus opening a leak where water would damage the foundation.

So much work and only four weeks... well, maybe they could move to the rented apartment when part of the furniture had been moved and move the rest later. Now what was necessary? The piano, the harp and of course his violin. That were the most important things. Then the Louis Philipe furniture, that would be Christines room. For himself... he could use the couch from the livingroom as bed for a start. The table, the chairs, his cupboard. The kitchen. In that order. And then the rest. How could he have collected so many things in such a few years when he had been traveling the world for years with no more luggage than one horse could carry without efford? He could always leave some things to get them later but he was sure he would never move everything. He was used to leave things behind.

They really could move to the rented house three days before the wedding.

Two days before the wedding a message from the cleric arrived. He asked them to come to him to discuss an important issue - there had been an objection against the wedding.  
"Raoul de Chagny! I'll kill him!" Erik roared.  
"No you won't!" Christine scolded him, "We'll just go there and explain everything."  
"EVERYTHING? Are you mad? We can't explain everything! You know perfectly well the reason why!" Erik yelled at her.  
"Erik, please calm yourself. If I tell the cleric that it is certainly not a forced marriage he has to accept that," she said.

"I do not think it will be that easy. There will be a confrontation with that arrogant fop and maybe he is setting up a trap right now. I refuse to run into his trap!"

In the end they agreed that the Persian was going there first while Erik would sneak to the graveyard mostly through the catacombs. He would stay there until he was sure that it was no trap at all. There was an entrance to the catacombs near the graveyard and the Persian should go there and call Erik if he was sure it was no trap.  
"And what am I going to do?" Christine asked, wondering if Erik was being paranoid. She did not think Raoul would set up any traps, she knew Raoul and was sure he would use all legal means but nothing illegal.  
"You stay behind me until it is save!" Erik answered.  
"Crawl through the catacombs? Erik, no, I'd rather go with your friend. I do not think Raoul would try to kidnap me and I'm sure it is no trap," Christine said.  
"That's too high a risk!" Erik exclaimed, "Please - please come with me on the saver route. There is nothing disgusting in that part of the catacombes, it is dry and there are only some very old bones, no rats and nearly no spiders. Please."

The cleric was surprised to see the Persian and not the couple he had invited. The Comte de Chagny was really there but when the Persian explained that Erik was afraid of a trap the cleric assured him that nothing like that would happen in his church. "It's a church, not a battlefield!"  
Raoul said: "I'm not like Erik. I do not need any traps and schemes and betrayal. I do it straight and use only legal means to fight him."  
The Daroga was satisfied with that answer and went to fetch Erik who was nowhere to be seen. "Erik? Erik, are you there?" The Persian called.  
"Yes, we are here," Erik answered and a small light went on in the darkness of the small corridor. Then Christine came with the lamp in her hand and shortly after her Erik.

"You said no rats, no spiders!" Christine complained.  
"I said nearly no spiders and that wasn't a rat, it was a mouse," Erik retorted.  
"Was a rat," Christine insisted.

"Stop bantering like an elderly married couple," the Daroga cut in, "There is a serious problem to be solved. And Erik - the Comte de Chagny is here and you better give me that lasso of yours now, and the knife too! I will not risk you going in there with your weapons!"  
Erik resorted to swearing in a language neither Christine nor the Daroga understood, for which both were grateful. When Erik handed the lasso and the knife to the Persian, the Daroga asked: "Which other weapons do you carry with you right now?"  
"Weapons? That is a piece of catgut and the knife is just a pocketknife..."  
"Yes, and just how many weapons do you carry?"  
Erik was about to say something when Christine cut in: "Do you have more weapons with you? Remember - no more lies!"  
Erik handed the Persian a small pistol and another knife. "There! Satisfied, both of you?" He still had two lassos, five throwing knifes and two boot knifes, not to forget the tiny perfume spray with the mazenderan perfume - a narcotic. Sometimes being thin and wearing too big clothes was a very high advantage. Especially clothes he had altered himself. But neither his friend nor his fiancee had to know this. He did not consider this a lie for he had said nothing, just asked if they were satisfied. No lie. And hopefully they would never find out for he hoped that he could avoid a fight.

When they came into the room, Raoul and the cleric got up. Raoul went to Christine immediatly and asked her if she was alright.  
"Yes, I'm fine, thank you," she answered.  
Raoul and Erik glared at each other as if they hoped to kill each other with their stares. It was Raoul who had to break the eye contact first.

The cleric started: "Please take a seat, all of you. Now - Monsieur Davisseau, Mademoiselle Daae, there had been an objection against your marriage. The Comte de Chagny states that it is a forced marriage and Mademoiselle Daae is the victim of blackmail. Monsieur Davisseau, these are serious accusations."  
Erik kept silent, he knew that Raoul was right.  
"Monsieur Davisseau?" Raoul asked, "At least you have a name now."  
"It's NOT my real name!" Erik snapped, "It's as good a surrogate name as any other."  
"This does not matter now," the cleric interrupted him, "I want to know if this is a forced marriage or not!"

"No, it is not forced!" Christine stated calmly determined, "I gave my word and I marry Erik of my own free will."  
"Then why did the Comte de Chagny tell me about abduction, murder attempt and blackmail?" the cleric asked.  
"I'm sure that Raoul said the truth," Christine answered, "But things can change and so can people. Raoul, please understand that I can't leave Erik. I can't. I could never forgive myself if I abandoned him. I told you - please do not wait for me! I'm going to marry him because I choose him. That does certainly not mean I would not love you, I do love both of you but he needs me more."

Erik and Raoul fell silent and stared at her. Raoul felt a horrible pain in his chest, tears welling up in his eyes. Erik felt a much sweeter pain. It was painful to hear that she loved the boy but she had for the first time said that she loved him, Erik, too. It was a bitter blessing, to be loved too... to be the one who won her but only because she pitied him and he needed her that badly. He had won because he was the weaker one of them. That was so humiliating.

"Is that really true?" Raoul asked, "You love me but you marry him because you pity him?"  
"It's not just pity," Christine answered, "I respect him too much to break my word. O Raoul, it is so complicated. Please, I told you not to wait for me, please, let me go! Live your life and be happy!"

Erik kept silent. He wasn't sure if she had agreed to marry him only out of pity but then he had never expected her to love him at their wedding. If she did not hate him it was enough. It was enough - pity and respect on her side, love and respect on his side, that could make a solid foundation to build on.

"How can you become the wife of that mad monster?" Raoul asked, "How can you overlook his crimes?"  
"He's no monster, he's a man who has committed monstrous crimes but it is not for me to judge him. I do pray to God to have mercy on Erik," Christine answered calmly. Obviously she had thought about Erik's crimes a long time and found a way to live with that.

Christine defending him. Erik did not trust his ears. Was this a dream, a halluzination? Would he wake up in some opium den? He was quite sure he did not take any drugs, was he going mad again?

Christine had been afraid of Erik's bad temper, but he was doing well so far, for he wasn't even angry right now. He just kept quiet and tried to figure out what the Comte de Chagny was up to and when the trap would be set in motion. Surely there had to be a trap, but he could not detect anything. No weapons - except his own and the weapons he had given the Daroga and, of course, Raoul wore a pistol, but he would never use that as long as Christine was sitting between them. But where was the trap, when would he set it in motion and just how would it work?

When the cleric said: "As long as Mademoiselle Daae claims to be here of her own free will I have to believe her and reject your objection." Erik was sure the trap would be set in motion and reached for his lasso but no one attacked him. Surely the Comte had a hired assassin somewhere? But where?

"I want to hear it from her when Erik is not in the room," Raoul said, "I do not believe her to be speak freely if he's listening."  
Erik answered calmly, almost tired, in a voice that made the Persian - who was still in the room listening - shudder and reaching for his own pistol: "Then I'll just wait outside at the graveyard." Erik had decided that the graveyard would make a fine place for a fight, if a somewhat macabre one. He would give the assassin a chance to fight him, but not to shoot him down for he would take cower between the headstones. Erik was sure to win any duel but he did not want to be shot in the back and as far as he knew assassins didn't even know there was such a concept as fairness and honour, at least those who were still alive like himself.

While Erik was waiting at the graveyard for an assassin who did only exist in his imagination, the Persian watching Erik seemingly disappear between the crypts, Raoul tried his best to get Christine to admit that it was indeed a forced marriage.

"There's no need to be ashamed, Christine. If you think you have to marry him because he raped you and you are pregnant - that is not necessary. I'd marry you in spite of everything because I love you," Raoul said.  
"He did never rape me," Christine indignantly denied it, "I'm as pure as I've always been. Raoul, please do not make it so hard on me! You know that I love you but... but I can't leave Erik and if I can't leave him it's better I marry him - it isn't proper to live together unwed!"  
"Tell me, WHY can't you leave him, if you love me?" Raoul asked desperately.  
Christine shook her head and answered softly: "Raoul, please try to understand - I cannot abandon him. I thought about leaving him, many times, but I found I could not do it. Please don't ask me to explain this, I don't know myself, but I don't have the heart to leave Erik. Not because he threatened me, no, but because I saw his pain. I told you not to wait for me, please, find a girl from a decent family not an opera singer with dubious reputation at best. Try to be reasonable - you are the Comte de Chagny, you CAN'T marry a singer. Raoul, I want you to be happy, live your life!"  
"I still love you, Christine, I never wanted anyone but you - I will wait for you. I love you and I will wait for you. Until then I wish you all the happiness in the world and if you ever need any help - you can always come to me," Raoul said and stood up, "Monsieur, I withdraw my objection." Then he left the room.

Raoul met the Persian and Erik outside, they were discussing something in a foreign language, Erik clearly annoyed and the Persian trying to calm him. There was no trap but Erik refused to believe that. Raoul went to them and they fell silent.  
"Christine loves you," Raoul said to Erik, "She does not realize that by now, she's not ready to admit it, even to herself, but I do. She loves you deeply and I only hope you know that you don't deserve that, you are unworthy of her love - that you have to make up for the greatest gift in the world you so undeservingly receive. I won't stand in your way now but I want you to know that if you ever make her cry again, if I hear anything that she's not happy, I'll make you pay for that."

Erik took his hat off to Raoul in a gesture of respect. "Thank you, Monsieur," he said softly. Erik could not deny that he had misjudged Raoul completely, but he wouldn't tell the boy just that.  
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 _Yes, they are getting closer to marriage._


	43. Chapter 43

**Madness and Hope**

Their wedding was small, with no one else than Erik, Christine, and the Daroga and his servant as witnesses and, of course, the cleric. Christine was very calm and determined now. She had made her decision and found she was quite happy with it. It was Erik who would never have made it to the church if his friend hadn't been with him - Erik panicked as he realized that his dream would come true. He knew he should be happy right now but he wasn't. He realized what he had to vow at the altar, standing before the huge cross and the cleric - he was not sure if he would be able to really speak the vows, if he was able to go through with it, he was suddenly afraid he would destroy Christine's life even more than he had already done.

In the end it had been the Daroga who grabbed his arm and just pushed him along, or Erik would simply have run away. Christine had insisted that she would go to the church in another cab. Of course they already lived together but she wanted to save appearances. So they had to cabs to bring them there.

Erik was the first to enter the church, as agile as he was usually, right now he nearly stumbled over his own feet. "She can still say no..." Erik whispered.  
"She won't," the Persian assured him, "After everything she's been through you really still doubt her?"  
"No, no of course not!" Erik answered, "I doubt myself. I'll ruin her life completely! What if I turn out to be a horrible husband? One of those who hit their wifes? You know my bad temper! What if I relapse to madness or succumb to temptation and turn back to the criminal ways? What if..."  
"Stop that now, Erik, we are already in the church, the cleric is coming in and I have seen Christine at the door. Erik, don't you dare faint now! I've heard a bride may faint at her wedding but the groom? Get a hold of yourself!" The Daroga had to grab Erik's arm firmly for Erik was barely able to stand upright and had taken a few steps towards the side door.

The cleric gave a short speech but a warmhearted and personal one. Erik did not get much of it, he had enough problems just standing there and not start to fidget. When the cleric asked him if he wanted Christine as his wife, he could barely speak. His answer was so soft, no one could hear him. The most important moment in his life - and his voice failed him. It was his anger at himself that gave him at least enough of his voice back to say yes.

Christine smiled. She knew about Eriks fears and exactly because she knew she was quite sure he would do anything to prevent them from coming true. When the cleric asked her if she wanted Erik as her husband she gave her yes with a steady voice that left no doubts as if she was sure in her decision.

When Christine gave her yes there was a warm glow in Eriks eyes and he straightened as if an unbearable weight had been lifted from his shoulders. His head was spinning with happiness, relief, joy, hope and fear at the same time.

When they exchanged the golden rings Christine took his hand in hers and held him as if she never wanted to let go of him. She loved him, she had to love him, there was no other explanation for that... Erik tried not to weep with happiness as finally the knowledge sank in that he had Christine as his wife now. And she wasn't shivering, she wasn't flinching, she wasn't crying and in her eyes there was no anger or hatred, not even sadness. He had made the right decision when he had decided to wait until she would be ready to marry him of her free will instead of forcing her into a marriage with a hostage locked away in the dungeon to ensure that she wouldn't go back on her word. Right now standing beside her felt so good, so right, so wonderful.

There was no celebration. They went home in one cab, dropping the Daroga and his servant of in the Rue de Rivoli before they came to their small house.

When they were alone an awkward silence was between them. Neither knew what to say or to do. Finally Erik suggested that they should really have their own private celebration, just the two of them. He wanted to sing with her, sing any love duet he knew and Christine gave in. She could not deny Erik's wish right now. They could only sing a certain time then Christine asked if they would eat something.

"Of course, I'll go to the kitchen and prepare something. Would you... please come with me? I do not want to spend one second alone today?"  
They ate a small meal in the kitchen when Erik suddenly asked Christine to get another napkin. She stood up and fetched the napkin, but when she was back at the table an envelope sat next to her plate.  
"Open it!" Erik said, smiling in anticipation.  
She opened it, it was a letter from the managers of the opera. She read it aloud: "Dear Mademoiselle Daae, we inform you hereby that you might take the lead in the current production of Faust as well as the roles of the Queen of the Night in the Magic Flute as well as the lead in the upcoming production of Carmen. If there will be no further scandal around your person we might even consider to make you the leading soprano again." She looked up at Erik, not knowing what to make of it.  
"You really should go there and sign the contract. I know it is a step down for you as you already have been the primadonna but I know who is your rivaless - you have nothing to fear from her. This time next year you'll be the primadonna again," Erik explained, his eyes sparkling with joy.

"Erik, how? How did you get them to reconsider?" Christine asked, suddenly afraid of his answer, "You did not use blackmail, did you?"  
"No, I did not," Erik answered slightly offended, "I did what you told me to do, I apologized to them."  
"You - WHAT? You really went to them and apologized?"  
"Actually no. They got a nice letter from the Opera Ghost, telling them I'm deeply sorry for the trouble I caused and I was willing to compensate for their damage."  
"But why would they take me back then? How...?" she still could not understand what Erik had actually done.  
"O, that's easy. I wrote if they wanted their money back I just have to see you on stage again. As soon as you sing again, I'll refund their money in full, with interest," Erik answered.

"Erik!" Christine gave a scolding cry.  
"What? That is no blackmail for I did not use any threat," Erik defended himself, "Please accept this, Christine, my darling, I wanted to give you this as a wedding present. But right now I begin to doubt you like it..."  
"How can you afford to pay everything back?" Christine asked.  
"I'll have to plunder my assets of last resort. But they are better spend ensuring your future than anything else. Now I can't do anything else but live on honestly earned money for there is nothing else left."  
Christine read the letter from the managers again.  
"You realize that I will earn less than my last fee but it will be much more than what you earn?" Christine asked.  
"Yes, that's the idea!" Erik grinned, "I'm your husband now, I have to pay for everything you need and every money you earn on your own you can save or spend as you wish."

Christine did not know what to say. She did not know if she should laugh or be angry. What he had done was quite close to blackmail, closer than she was comfortable with, but right now she found she could not be angry with Erik, not when he was giving her such a wonderful gift. A gift that had not only cost him much money but even forced him to write an apology.

"Marguerite is a role I know very well and you already prepared me for the Queen of the Night but Carmen? I know the opera, but I'm not sure..." Christine doubted she would be able to fill that role.  
Erik shrugged and grinned sheepishly. "I have to transform a decent Scandinavian virgin into a hot-blooded Spanish gipsy whore. After I have been able to make an honourable man of me I think I'm up to the task."

In the evening both of them were getting quiet and there was an awkward silence. "Maybe we should go to bed," Erik suggested, "I have to work tomorrow. Another day full of boring blueprints from unimaginative bunglers... but in the evening we can start working on Carmen, if you like?"  
"Um, going to bed..." Christine looked at her dress, she was still wearing the white dress. She was afraid he would insist on his rights now, she did not want to undress before his eyes or even worse have to watch him undress. And that other thing... she had heard it would be painful at the first time.  
Erik looked at her. She stood there stock-still, every fibre of her body tense, her legs pressed together, her arms crossed before her breast. He could not do it, he could not take her by force. He did not want her like this, shaking with disgust, teeth clenched, eyes closed... and right now he literally could not do it, no matter what. He knew how to control his desire but he had no idea how to awaken it.  
"Christine, darling, please do not worry. Right now I... um... I think I might be getting old..."  
Now that was really awkward for both of them. Christine looked at the floor, her face bright red and Erik stared at the roof beams, blushing with shame beneath his mask.

"Maybe I... just kiss you goodnight before we retreat to our rooms for the night?" he begged shyly, with so much fear of rejection in his voice, "Only one small kiss on the forehead. I've never kissed a women before... never kissed anyone before... Christine, darling, one small kiss on our wedding day, please?"  
Christine looked at him. Erik looked so weak right now, he had to steady himself at the piano or he would fall. He had - never kissed anyone before? His whole life without even one kiss? Christine could not deny him, not because she felt obliged but because she pitied him and wanted to take this pain and this fear in his eyes away.

"Of course," she said and went to him, presenting her forehead, then she closed her eyes as he stepped closer to her. She felt him bending down and then his rough, thin lips touched her forehead gently. He did not press his lips at her face nor did he touch her with his hands - he did not want to hold her, she should be free to go whenever she wanted to. His lips were rough and he had pressed them together tightly but their touch weren't disgusting to her surprise. She had always imagined his lips to be disgusting but they weren't. When he broke the short contact he shuddered as he stepped back, leaning against the piano to steady himself. Tears streaming from his eyes but he did not seem to be sad.

"Thank you," he murmured, "Thank you for this moment. I'll savor it for the rest of my life." For the rest of his life? Did he mean he would never ask to kiss her again? Christine was surprised by the disappointment she felt at his statement and saddened at the sight of this man shaken from such an innocent kiss. She could not even begin to imagine how starved for affection he was.

She took a deep breath and gathered her courage, then she stepped closer to him, he tried to retreat but bumped into the piano and could not back away any more. She had to stand up on tiptoes to reach him, he was so much taller than her, then she reached for his neck with her right hand and pulled him down until she could reach his lips with hers. She softly brushed her lips against his. A very shy kiss and a short one, but Erik felt his knees giving way and his hands were shaking too hard to hold onto the piano, he found himself on the floor at her feet, unable to speak or to think, he could only feel - and it was such a wonderful bliss this feeling of love, warmth and joy.

He felt Christines hand at his masked cheek, a soft stroking, and looked up. She smiled at him. "Goodnight, Erik," she said and went to her room.  
He stayed on the floor for hours before he managed to get up again.

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 _Now they are married - but this is not the end of the story, because "happily ever after" is something for fairy tales..._

 _Please Review!_


	44. Chapter 44

**Madness and Hope**

Christine woke early the next morning. She stretched and her feet touched something warm and soft. When she sat up she saw Erik lying curled up at her feet. Obviously he had sneaked in her bed at night but not dared to lay down beside her like a husband would but rather curled up at her feet like a dog would. He still wore the same suit and mask he had worn at the wedding. She touched him gently and he rolled over to his back so he was lying across the bed now, his legs dangling down on one side.

"Good morning," she giggled.  
Erik bolted up with a start. "Morning? I... o... I'm sorry..." Obviously he had not meant to fall asleep.

"You're blushing," she said.  
Erik just got up and went to the bathroom. After he had cleaned himself up and changed his clothes he prepaired breakfast for them while Christine used the bathroom.

They had breakfast almost in silence for neither of them knew what to say. Then Erik got up and said he mustn't be late for his work and left her.

Christine sat there, staring at the remains of their breakfast. She was his wife now, his virginal wife that is, and she did not know what to do all day. Of course she could do the housekeeping but she found that the flat was neat and tidy - Erik had seen to that himself - and doing the dishes was a task for a few minutes. She found in the kitchen a purse where Erik had left her some money should she need anything. She went through the kitchen and found it would be a good idea to buy some food, tea and coffee for them, so Erik would not have to do the shopping. She knew how much he disliked going out at all.

When everything was done she turned to the piano and tried to practice Carmen on her own, but she felt bad doing so. She could play the piano but it was a challenge to play and sing at the same time and she wasn't sure it would do any good.

Erik returned in the afternoon, he had rearranged his schedule so he would go to work very early and come back early in the afternoon.

Christine smiled at him and asked him if she should cook something for them, she had already bought everything she needed. Erik smiled as they went to the kitchen, because Christine had no idea what to do with the meat and how to fire the cooker to get the right temperature. "Christine, darling, not so much wood please we do not want to eat briquettes," Erik gently advised, then took the knife from her hand. "Please allow me to do that, I can't watch you getting your hands dirty."

"It's not dirt but food," Christine disagreed, then gave a sigh: "I know I'm a horrible housewife. First my father and then Mama Valerius cared for me - I never had to do anything myself."  
Erik laughed: "Darling, do not worry about that. I told you I can do that myself, I've done that for decades! Please, just sit down and have a chat with me."

Christine sat down and asked: "Erik, why did you tell me you had no name and no nationality when you knew your parents? You even inherited your mother's furniture - you have to know your real name. I know I'm Madame Davisseau now but I'd like to know the real name."

Erik gave a sigh. "Long, sad story and nothing I'm proud of. I'd rather give you a music lesson and have a nice evening."

"No, I want to know. Please tell me Erik, I know you have siblings, I want to know about my relatives in law."

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 _Short chapter for now - I hope you like it nevertheless. Let's see how being married turns out for them..._


	45. Chapter 45

**Madness and Hope**

Finally Erik agreed to tell her the story. "It's a painful memory and I'm not proud of what I did," he said, "Are you sure you want to know?"  
"Yes, I do!" Christine insisted.

"Well... when I returned to Europe after having to flee the orient, I was weary of my old life. I did not want to go on travelling the world, I wanted to settle down and live like anyone else, I was sick of adventures. In Belgium I was forced to spent a few weeks at a small town because of the weather. There was quite an uproar for a local building company was close to bankruptcy. I talked to the owner and decided I could do better than him, so I just bought the company from the bankruptcy assets and hired the previous owner as my employee and front man because I did not want to show myself too often. He was a good natured man and that made him a very bad businessman. He was good in drumming up business but not really good as a master mason. We were a good team though with him the front man and me doing the work, making the decisions."

Erik smiled and watched the meat in the pan. "I even went to the rector of a small university and got my papers there - I already told you - so I could write my surrogate name on the blueprints because I did not want anyone else to take credit for my work." Erik added some spices to the meat and put the vegetables in another pan.

"Within few years I had a rather large building company but I wanted more than just being a master mason in the countryside so I moved to Paris and took most of my workmen with me. I became a contractor and I liked my work, I was proud to live an honest life - as honest as a ambitious businessman can afford to be, that is."

Erik took the plates and put their meals on them, then put the plates on the table. He fetched them water to drink and sat down at the table himself. He was quite hungry and thought he could go on with his story while they had dinner.

"I remembered my family. My father had been a master mason and I wanted to meet him, wanted to show him the prosperous business of mine and hoped he might even say something like 'done well' or even 'I'm proud of you'... I wanted a family so badly I wanted to return to my own."

They ate a few bites, then Erik continued: "When I reached Rouen, I learned that I had come too late. My parents were already dead and fathers small business was run by my brothers and my brothers in law and it was even smaller than it had been when my father had been around. My own building company was at least ten times bigger than theirs, they lived mainly on subcontracting. I wanted to talk to them, tell them of my own business and I was even willing to bring in my knowledge, my skills and my money if they gave me my rightful share at their company."

Erik's eyes darkened.  
"Let me guess - it did not turn out well?" Christine asked.

"Not at all. They recognized me immediately when I met them, but they told me I had been declared dead and I would never be able to prove that I was their brother. I assumed they did not want to share the heritage with me so I offered to buy my share. No matter how much I offered, they brusquely turned me down, they did not want my money. They refused to acknowledge me as their brother, claiming their brother was dead and I was an imposter."

"I suffered a breakdown somewhere in the streets of Rouen. I was devastated and was on the verge of suicide, I had already cut open some veins in my arm, when an old, blind beggarwoman stumbled over me. She asked me if I could help her for it was a cold, rainy day and she had no shelter, when she smelled the blood. Blood has a unique smell, you know. She asked me if I was hurt and I suddenly broke down weeping, blurting out what had happened between me and my siblings. She took me in her arms and stroked my back, soothing me. Finally she told me that she had suffered a similar fate - she had been living with the family of her oldest daughter but when her daughter died in childbirth and her son in law remarried, she had been cast out on the streets. I was so desperate I asked her if she would accept me as her son and she did. I bandaged my arm, we spent the next days at an inn and then I bought a small coach so I could take her to Paris with me."

Erik smiled as he remembered the old beggarwomen. "I took her in, gave her a room full of luxury she never had in her life, even hired a maid to care for her. The old women - her name was Beatrice - was blind so my appearance did not trouble her at all. She was neither clever nor especially likeable but that did not matter to me - she was thankful and I could pretend to have a family. I never knew if she liked me or it was just plain dependence on me, but that did not matter. In some ways she saved me that time, helped me to overcome the terrible pain at the rejection of my real family."

"Beatrice died far too soon. I sat at her deathbed, holding her hand and before she died she said she wanted to bless me, like a mother would her son. I was devastated when she was dead, but this time I did not hurt myself but I wanted to take revenge on my siblings. They had rejected me even when I had offered much money instead of demanding anything. Now they would have to deal with the consequences."

They finished their meal and went to the living room. Erik did not want to go on with his story but Christine wanted to hear it now, she was afraid Erik might have even killed his family members but she wanted to know for sure.

"I did not want to kill them, I wanted to force them to acknowledge me as their brother. So I turned to lawyers and they helped me with my plan. I calculated that it might cost me up to two-third of my wealth but I was willing to risk that. So I started an inheritance recovery action against them."

Christine let out a relieved sigh. That was nothing bad - it was his right and it was legal. Erik looked away from her, he could assume her suspicions and it hurt so much.

"But that was not all - I sent my front man to Rouen to build up a branch of my company there and gave my family a subcontract. The first subcontract was a real one, it served to gain their trust. They had no idea who they were dealing with, so they accepted another subcontract, in which they accepted that there would be no advance payment, only after the building was finished. The customer was one of my lawyers, he acted as my trustee in that matter. With that contract they lend money from a bank and another one of my lawyers - again acting as my trustee - did the dept purchase."

"Then I let them work, spend the money, do the work. When the building was finished, I deliberately sabotaged their work, so the customer could complain and not pay my company which in turn did not pay them, while I send in my lawyers like a field commander would send in the heavy cavalry to empocket them."

Erik opened a bottle of wine and poured them two glasses. He took a small sip before he went on: "They had one lawyer and my lawyers tipped him off that my siblings were close to bankruptcy so he demanded his fee in advance, which forced them to turn to an usurer, again one of my lawyers did the dept purchase and this time it was extortionate rates of interest. All I had to do now was buying time - the vigorish would do the rest."

"Erik, that was horrible!" Christine exclaimed.  
Erik gave a bitter laugh: "That was my commercial style. What did you think got me the byname hellhound? A little banter with an official?" He filled their glasses again and went on: "Now I had many lawsuits against them - my inheritance recovery action, the damages action from the customer, the damage action from my company and two mortgage actions. They couldn't afford to repair the defects in the building so I did not pay them while on the other hand demanding they paid their debts. And they did not even know they were battling me on all fronts."

Christine shook her head. "That had all been your idea?"  
"No, of course not! It was the idea of my advocate. He was as ruthless as I was," Erik answered and Christine gave a sigh of relieve. It was good to hear that Erik was not the mastermind of that diabolical scheme - it was bad enough he was the one who had ordered it.

"Then I tried to talk to them again, telling them that I had heard of their troubles and wanted to help if they would but acknowledge me as their brother, nothing more. It was humiliating when they turned me down again. They'd rather go to jail for bankruptcy fraud than call me by my true name. That's when I decided to show my true colors and deal the fatal blow."

Erik drained his glass in one gulp and refilled it. He was sitting on his piano bench and Christine was sitting at the couch in the living room.

"I forced them to a meeting with me and all of my lawyers. Now they realized that the customer, the contractor and even both creditors were just my stooges. They accused me of sabotaging their work and I accused them of fraud and false oath, I think we all were right in our accusations. Now I offered a deal - I would cancel all their debts, even compensate all their damages, help them with their company, even offered them shares of my own company - hell, I was begging them to acknowledge me as their brother. I just wanted to be their brother, then they could have everything from me."

Erik shuddered and put down his glass. "Better I stop drinking now or I'll empty the bottle which is not a good idea." Christine saw him crying with pain and shame.

"They refused! Can you imagine this - they were facing a trial for bankruptcy fraud and I had offered them wealth and they refused me", Erik buried his head in his hands. The memory was painful and he had never gotten over the pain and the humiliation of what had happened.

"They made another offer - if I renounced my name and any claim to be their brother they would hand over the whole inheritance of our parents - at least what was left of it, for the company was ruined and the house was mortgaged to the hilt."

Erik gave a heavy sigh. "I was dumbfounded. They really offered to give me all goods, they would leave with nothing but the clothes on their backs rather than acknowledge me as their brother and accept the wealth I was offering. When I realized just how terrible their hatred was, I could not make any decision. I just sat there, speechless, numb. My lawyer finally made the deal. I did not catch anything at that time, I was stunned by their hatred that they would rather face ruin than just call me by my true name - I had never asked them to like me or anything like that, just to be who I really was."

Erik shuddered and leaned against the piano for support. He suddenly felt lightheaded. "Days later I had to sign at the court that I renounced any claim to be myself. Then I witnessed my siblings, their spouses and their children leave the house. I saw my nieces and nephews for the first time - now beggars on the street with no hopes for a better life in the future - leaving Rouen, maybe even leaving France. They would forever hate the man who had claimed to be their uncle and ruined their lives."

Erik got up and staggered to the couch. He needed to be close to Christine now, knelt down at her feet in hope for some comfort.

"I went after them, called out to them, I fell to my knees in the dust before them, begging them to accept my help now, I would give them shares of my company, everything, they would want for nothing in the future, I would have their children well-fed and educated, I did not even ask them to call me their brother any longer, I begged them to accept my remorse and my recompense. That's when they spit in my face."

Erik rested his forehead against her knee. He needed to feel her now, he needed some comfort or he was going mad.

"That's awful," Christine said, "I cannot understand how they could do that to their children. It is one thing to loose your subsistence but their children..."  
"Their hatred was worse than mine," Erik answered, "and I could no longer claim that this was no fault of my own." He pressed his forehead against Christine's knee. "I never heard anything of them again. Never. I had lost half of my capital in this shameful endeavour, and I had gained nothing that really mattered. Of course I had my parental home with all the furniture and all family heirloom, but my fathers building company was in bankruptcy, my families name dishonoured and I was even more lonely than before. I had wanted my parents to be proud of me at last and I had been nothing but a shame to my parents. I had just wanted to be myself and found nothing but disgrace." Erik cried in pain and shame and Christine was moved with pity. She did not appreciate what he had done but she understood why he had become the man he now was. She bent down to stroke his neck and his shoulders.

Suddenly he looked up at her. "Do you understand now why I told you I have no family, no name, no home?"

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 _According to Leroux Erik tells Christine that he has no name and no nationality. But he has to know his parent's names, otherwise he could never inherit something from his mother. This is the reason I came up with - DNA tests were not known that time and if they claimed that he was not their brother he would have no way to prove his identity. I think that Erik came from a very dysfunctional family, maybe it became that dysfunctional only after his birth but he was - literally - the outcast and his siblings would blame him for every misfortune, growing a deep hatred from early childhood._

 _Erik is a master in many fields - but not in law but I can assume that he had to have some lawyers, no businessman can do without. And Erik would seek out the most ruthless and cunning._

 _Please review._


	46. Chapter 46

**Madness and Hope**

Christine did not know what to say or what to do. She did not assume that Erik would lie to her, but what he told her was horrible. He actually had destroyed his family when they had rejected him. She was torn between anger at him and pity. She pushed him away from her.

"Erik, that was a horrible crime!" Christine said.  
"I know," Erik admitted, "But I still feel that they were not entirely innocent either - they withheld my rightful inheritance, they gave a false testimony, a false oath and denied me the right to be me. This does not justify what I did to them, but to be stripped of the basic right to be me..." Erik shook his head.

"That's awful," Christine said.

Erik pushed himself to his feet. "We would have had a much more pleasant evening preparing you for Carmen," he said, "Good night, my darling. And please go to the opera tomorrow and sign your new contract, will you?"  
"Yes, I'll do that," Christine promised and watched Erik retreat to his room. He did not wait for her to wish him good night or ask to kiss her again. She was relieved for after his confession she would not have been able to kiss him, she was too disgusted but she could not say that she did not understand him. She did not even want to imagine what it must be like to be stripped of ones true identity.

When Christine woke up the next morning, she found a plate with some breakfast at her night table. Next to it was a flower, a yellow rose and a small note, reminding her of her appointment with the managers and promising that Erik would try to return home as soon as possible.

Christine ate her breakfast and got dressed. Then she went to the opera. It wasn't easy to go there, not after the scandals around her person. Going to the opera knowing Erik was certainly not there... At least he seemed to trust her now or he would not want her to go there alone.

When Christine came to the office the managers already waited for her. "Ah, Mademoiselle Daae..." Firmin Richard greeted her.  
"It's Madame Davisseau now," Christine answered.  
The Managers stared at each other. "Madame... who?" Moncharmin asked. The name had rung a bell.  
"Davisseau," Christine repeated.  
"I think I heard that name somewhere..." Richard said, then remembered his manners and offered his congratulations.

"Thank you," Christine answered.  
"Well, then, Mademoiselle... um, sorry, Madame Davisseau... as to your new contract," Moncharmin took over, "You understand that we simply can't give you the position of a primadonna until you have proven yourself to be up to that task? However, you did quite well as Marguerite and therefore you get the roles of Marguerite, the Queen of the Night and Carmen for the spring and summer season, if you prove yourself you get a new contract depending on your performance. Right now you'll be a soprano like some others and we will pick the new primadonna at the end of summer. One thing - no more scandals and no more disappearances. Is that understood?" Firmin Richard asked.

"Of course," Christine said. She was angry that she had to take the blame for her disappearances and the scandals for they were not her doing. Erik was to be for the high jump. But she rather assumed that he already knew...

"Davisseau... I still wonder where I heard that name?" Moncharmin asked.  
"My husband is Erique Davisseau, he's an official at the building authority," Christine answered and stifled a laugh at the faces of the managers. Of course, the chandelier "accident" and the authority really had put the fox in charge of the henhouse...  
"That dull bureaucrat?" Firmin gasped, then cleared his throat. "um, no offence..."  
Christine pretended to blow her nose just to prevent her from laughing. If the managers just knew who that man really was! Dull was exactly the one thing he was certainly not!

Then she heard Moncharmin whisper to his partner: "That's great! No further scandals to fear for she's married to an old official now. I wonder why she married him for he's really ugly and utterly boring? Maybe she just picked the first one who would help her rehabilitate herself after her affaire with the de Chagny?"  
"Shht!" Richard hissed, "Let's discuss this later!" Then he turned to Christine and handed her the papers.

She read them, did not understand the legal terms but she knew it was a standard contract for singers to take over the large roles. And it was not for a limited period of time, that was a very good omen. She crossed out the name "Daae" and wrote "Davisseau". Then she signed the two copies and took one copy and the rehearsal schedule with her when she left. Three weeks and she would be on stage as the Queen of the Night.

Erik really came home early, he had a basket with him, obviously he had decided to do the shopping for her. Before even saying hello he asked: "Did you sign the contract?"  
"Yes, I did," Christine answered and Erik gave a sigh of relieve, but then she turned at him: "And I had to take the blame for the scandals YOU orchestrated! That was so humiliating! You have no idea of the disgrace you put me in, obviously the managers assume that I had spend the time you kept Raoul and me prisoner with him and married the first man I met afterwards just to rehabilitate myself - you should have seen their stares, as if I was a whore!"  
Erik put down the basket and took off his hat. "I'm sorry," he said, "What can I do to make amends?"  
"I have no idea," she said.

"Maybe... you should sing?" Erik suggested, "Sing the aria from the Magic Flute. I think you are in the right mood for it."

Christine stared at him. She had just berated him for the disgrace he had put her in and he had no better idea than a music lesson? She watched him walk over to the piano and opening the cover.

"Christine? Are you ready?" he asked.  
"Erik, do you realize what you are doing? I tell you how humiliating it was what you put me through and all you come up with is a music lesson? Are you that stupid or do you just choose ignore my feelings?" she yelled at him.

Erik was perfectly calm. "Neither. I think you need to let off some steam and the aria is just perfect for that purpose. If I am tensed up music helps me to relax, I'm sure you feel better afterwards."

Now Christine was taken aback. Erik obviously tried to be considerate and was only clumsy in his attempt. He simply started to play and when she missed her cue Erik just started again until at the third time she started singing:

" _Der Hölle Rache kocht in meinem Herzen,_  
 _Tod und Verzweiflung flammet um mich her!_  
 _Fühlt nicht durch dich Sarastro Todesschmerzen,_  
 _So bist du meine Tochter nimmermehr._  
 _Verstoßen sei auf ewig,_  
 _Verlassen sei auf ewig,_  
 _Zertrümmert sei'n auf ewig_  
 _Alle Bande der Natur,_  
 _Wenn nicht durch dich Sarastro wird erblassen!_  
 _Hört, Rachegötter, hört der Mutter Schwur!_ "

He had been right, she felt better now that she had been able to pour all her anger into that aria. Erik got up from the piano, smiling at her.

"Yet I thought you stab me in the back any moment," he said cheerfully, "That was perfect! That's exactly how it must be sung! Now... do you want to go on with our music lesson or do you want to have a late lunch first?"

"Don't you think this is forgiven and forgotten with only one music lesson!" Christine scolded him.  
"Of course not," Erik answered seriously, "I know it will cost me dearly - just state your wish and it will be yours."  
"That's not about money!" Christine answered, "It's my reputation, my honour!"  
"What do you want me to do? Challenge them to a duel?"  
"NO! I just..." she gave a sigh, "I have no idea. Maybe I have to accept that I have no better reputation than some of the other singers."

"O you do have a much better reputation," Erik assured her, "You know what they say about some ballet rats? They can't kick their legs up high enough so they have to spread them, they'd even bed down with the horses in the stable if it would help their career, they are much cheaper than whores because one does not have to actually pay them... You, on the other hand, are falsely seen as a girl who succumbed to seduction and then married to become a well-respected woman again. That is a very big difference."

"How reassuring..." she sighted as Erik took the basket and left for the kitchen. She saw a bottle in his basket. "What is this?" she asked, hoping he would not buy anything like absinthe.

"It's just mead," Erik stated sadly, "You know why a honeymoon is called honeymoon? Newlyweds are to drink honey wine - it lessens the shyness. I... I allowed myself to dream when I bought it. I'll better put it away in that shelf and forget about it, right?"  
Christine hesitated. The despair and pain in his voice was obvious yet she could not bring herself to offer herself to Erik. With a sigh he put the bottle away and started cooking their meal.

They ate in silence, with Erik studying the rehersal schedule thoroughly. "This is not bad," he said, "You have two rehersals for Faust, then at least five for the Magic Flute alternating with you singing Marguerite, it will be trying but not exhausting you. Then, when you will be singing Marguerite and the Queen of the Night you have ten rehersals for Carmen, which is to come up just in summer. Not too bad, I think we can do without intervening..."  
"INTERVENING?" Christine cried out, "Certainly YOU will do no intervening!"  
Erik looked up in surprise. "I did not say I would..." he defended himself, "I was just talking to myself. I know this is a bad habit. Maybe we start preparing you for Carmen today?"

After Erik did the dishwashing he softly berated her that she had done it herself in the morning. "I do not want you to do the work of a servant. I'll do that myself. You are to rest and take care of your beauty and your voice. I'm sorry I can't be here to entertain you all day, but as soon as rehersal starts I'm sure you wouldn't be bored."

Then they started their music lesson. Carmen was a challenge for Christine for as much as Marguerite matched her character Carmen was the opposite. Christine could sing the part, no doubt, but it did not feel right. Singing at the opera isn't just hitting the right notes - and Carmen was a role Christine could not fill, at least not now.

After an hour she gave up. "It does not feel right. It's not the music - it's the part of Carmen, she's so... Carmen is a disgusting whore, I don't think I can do this. I'd rather go there and ask for the role of Micaela," she said.  
"No! I'm sure you can do that!" Erik retorted, "I'll help you. Carmen is a rather strong women, she's acting much more like a man than a woman. She... she want's Jose because he seems to be unreachable at first, it's a challenge so the seduction is her triumph. After she had him, she realizes that he's utterly boring and turns to the bold Escamillo, who's a real man and not just a nice boy like Jose... It's much about a women who knows what she wants and she gets just that. If Jose wouldn't kill her in the end I'm quite sure she'd have Escamillo at her feet like a pup no matter how many bulls he killed." Erik got up with a small sigh. "Let's go to bed," he suggested.

Christine stood there, not knowing what to do when he turned away. He did not ask for a kiss, but she could tell from the longing in his eyes that he wanted it but did not dare.

"Erik," she called softly.  
"Yes?" he turned to her, "Is there anything I can do for you?"  
"What about my good night kiss?" she asked. She had hoped to sound like a woman but her voice was as if a small girl would ask her father.  
Erik stared at her dumbfounded. "A... what? You... You... w...w...want?" The stammer told her just how confused Erik was. Christine smiled at him, as he finally approached her.

His kiss was shy and only a light touch on her forehead, but she found that it wasn't unpleasant. When he drew back she could see his tears. Would he cry every time she allowed him a simple kiss?

"Thank you, my darling," Erik whispered, then turned around and fled to his room before he could no longer control his emotions.

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 _Please review! I hope you have a nice weekend - next chapters will be up next week._


	47. Chapter 47

**Madness and Hope**

Christine found that to her surprise living as Erik's wife was not different from her life with him before the wedding. He conducted himself as gentleman, never asking anything of her, not even a kiss. Even when she tried to signal him that he was allowed to kiss her, he did not, either because he did not read her signals or because he was afraid he might misunderstand them. If he was allowed to touch her, she had to tell him. He would just sit there and try to look up at her - which was not easy since he was taller than her - when he wanted a touch or a kiss.

Their daily routine was easy enough, Erik got up early so he could be at home in the afternoon. His work was boring because most of the tasks he was given were not difficult but the others disliked dealing with certain architects. Erik did not find them very difficult to deal with - they had not many creative ideas to annoy him, he himself had been much more of a nuisance when he had been an architect and contractor. If they provoked him, he would annoy them - it was like a game who is better in annoying the other one... He rather liked to demonstrate his superiority. There were no flawless plans - except his own, of course - and so he would find a flaw in every blueprint which allowed him to suggest to his superiors to make certain requirements. He was sure to put those young haughty architects behind schedule at least for a year, maybe two years and was quite positive he would even surpass his current superior who had managed to stop a building project for three years. Everyone needs a bit of fun. His job was mostly him sitting in that extremely small room studying blueprints. No actual face to face communication needed, it was one of those boring back-office jobs were he would get the papers and he wasn't even allowed to answer them, he had to write a note and one of his superiors would write the actual answer. If someone wanted to talk to him, he would be as unfriendly as possible and force them to give their requests in writing. His other tasks were something like an enforcer to supervise that demolition ruling was carried out or inspections of finished buildings if they really matched the requirements, and writing those horrible reports he really hated.

Christine, who had to be prepared to sing in the evening, got up late and went to the rehersals at noon. When she returned from the rehersals, Erik had already done whatever housekeeping needed to be done and was waiting for her with dinner. Since Christine would only sing once a week they spend most evenings with music lessons.

One day when she came home she found that Erik had prepared a wonderful dinner with fish. "It's Friday," he said, beaming with pride like a dog who had learned a new trick, "So we are to have fish, right? I'm sorry I never considered that before but I will in the future. And we can start going to church on Sundays again, if you like? But only the church at the graveyard, you know our little hiding place behind the column?"

Christine was moved by his consideration. She had said nothing to imply that she missed the church or that she wanted to have fish on Friday but he had found out himself and anticipated her wishes. In any other man she would have found this to be normal but she knew how hard it was for Erik to act like a normal man would. But then... a normal man would never do the housekeeping...

"Thank you, Erik, that's so sweet of you," she said and Erik beamed with happiness.  
When she sat down at the kitchen table she asked if he was happy.

"O yes, I'm living my wildest dreams right now," he said and Christine was sure it was the truth. But then he added: "I only wish I could go to the opera and see you singing on stage."  
"You can't?" she asked bewildered.  
"Yes, I can't afford a box, it's far too expensive and I can't just buy one of the cheap seats - I can't risk being seen and recognized as the Phantom. The only seats I could reach without being seen are in box five," he answered.  
"I could pay for the box," Christine suggested, "I earn more than you and you pay for everything else, the rent, the food, even my clothes and makeup."  
"No, your money is your own, I do not want you to spend it on my behalf. I'd rather stay away and wait for the critics in the newspapers."

"But I want you to be there," Christine said softly, "I want you to hear me."

"Then I thank you for your generosity," Erik answered warmly. It wasn't so much the gift she was giving him, it was more the fact that she did not use the opera to escape from him now but she wanted him there that touched his heart. He would have the Daroga buy box five for he did not dare go to the box office himself. This would of course mean to have the Persian sitting with him in the box every evening but he looked forward to sit in a box not alone but with a friend LIKE ANY OTHER would do. He chuckled at the thought that the Phantom now was afraid of everyone and not the other way round.

"What is so funny?" Christine asked.  
"Nothing, I just realized that I will have to ask my friend to buy the box for I do not dare show myself at the opera - someone might recognize me. Now I am the one who has to be afraid and not them. That is funny."  
"Some would call it poetic justice," Christine said, but she could not help grinning.

Christine insisted in going to church on Good Friday. She did not have to tell Erik about Good Friday, he knew enough passion oratorio to know exactly what it was all about. He stated he did not like Good Friday but he went with her.

In the church Christine noticed that Erik started sketching something in a small notebook, turned the page, next sketch. Even when they were back home he could not stop sketching, when he had no more pages in his notebook he took some paper and made even more sketches. Christine took the notebook and stared at the pages. The first page showed the crucifix from the church. The second sketch was a detail of the left hand nailed to the cross. The next one was a foot nailed to the cross. And then the sketches became different. The nail not in the hand but in the wrist. Another one with the nail in the wrist and the thumb in an awkward position The nail not midfoot but the legs slightly spread and the nails through the heel with one leg on each side of the cross, both legs on one side and one nail through both heels... She had to put the sketchbook down or she would have been sick.

Erik noticed her discomfort. "I'm sorry, I did not draw them for you to see," he said.  
"What are you doing?" she asked, "Why these sketches?"  
Erik shrugged. "I was thinking about the crucifix. A nail through the hand wouldn't do any good for the hand would rip apart and the body fall, a nail midfood is better but I would use the calcaneal... o, I beg your pardon, I did not mean to upset you..."

"Why are you doing these sketches?" she asked. After being at church at Good Friday he had nothing better to do than to criticize the artist who made the crucifix? She knew that Erik had been an executioner and torturer and watching him drawing sketches of a crucifixion was awful.  
"I need to understand..." Erik mumbled.  
"You need to understand what?" she asked.  
"The pain the victim suffered," he answered. Then he showed her his last sketch. It was different from all crucifixes she had ever seen. It showed a man with short hair and a beard, his face rather oriental, very much different from the usual portrayals, his hands spread and nailed to the cross just beneath the wrists, the nails between elbow bone and radial bone, the legs slightly spread and drawn backwards, the nails through the calcaneal. The man was naked and his face contorted in pain.

"This is how it should look like," Erik said in a matter of fact manner.  
Christine suddenly felt lightheaded and had to sit down. She was utterly disgusted with Erik's sick way of celebrating Good Friday.

But then she was surprised by his next words: "He even forgave those who tortured him. I try to understand... How? So much pain... The victim can survive three days if he's healthy and strong... So much pain without dying... I can't understand..."

"Erik, what are you talking about?" Christine asked.  
Erik shook his head. "I try to understand what Good Friday is about." He shuddered. "I can't."  
Christine tried to figure it out. Obviously Erik was really trying to understand something but in working out the execution he would not understand anything of the meaning.

"But Erik, Good Friday is... it is about hope... about forgiveness..." she tried to explain, feeling hopelessly overchallenged.  
"I know. But I have to understand the pain, otherwise I'll never understand what the priest was saying with "He suffered the punishment in our place." If I do not understand the pain, how can I understand what he meant with that?"

Now that was a completely different approach, but Christine could not even say that it was wrong. Most people would never even bother to think about it that way but as twisted as Erik's own approach was - she could not deny that he was right in a certain way.

Erik shook himself and asked her, if she wanted something to eat. He himself would fast that day.  
Christine was taken aback. That was something she never had guessed to hear from Erik, who had claimed never to celebrate any Christian holidays. But then... he had promised he wouldn't miss Easter and obviously was determined to do it right. Whatever right was in Erik's mind but this time she asked herself if his approach wasn't a bit closer to reality than that of the normal people. She shuddered.

Erik got up and stretched like a feline predator would. "I'm sorry, I did not mean to upset you," he said softly.  
"No, not at all," Christine answered, "I was just thinking... You wouldn't harm yourself, would you?"  
"Of course not, why should I hurt myself?" Erik asked bewildered.  
Christine gave a sigh of relief. "You wanted to understand the pain..."  
"It's unnecessary. I know how it feels like to step on a large nail and have my foot pierced through in an everyday building site accident. That and my... experience... is quite enough." Erik swallowed hard, then went to the kitchen to get himself a glass of water. He suddenly felt sick.

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 _Celebrating Good Friday with Erik is a challenge. He want's to do it right, wants to celebrate it in the right way but he has certainly a very unique approach to do so._


	48. Chapter 48

**Madness and Hope**

Christine woke at Easter Sunday to see a plate with a nice breakfast on her night table, next to it flowers in a vase. She smiled. Living with Erik was a challenge every day but she had to admit it was not bad after all. A knock at her door - why did Erik knock after he had already sneaked in to bring her breakfast? - then the door opened and Erik came in. He wore a light grey suit and a fawn mask. In his hands he had another vase with flowers.

"Good morning my darling," he greeted happily.  
"Good morning," Christine replied.  
Erik put the vase down and handed her the plate. "I hope you like it," he said, smiling, "And for lunch we'll have gigot d'agneau. I'll do it right this time."  
"Don't you eat breakfast?" she asked.

"I've had my breakfast three hours ago, I just finished cleaning up the house - except your room that is, Madame Late Riser!" he answered teasingly, "Now, enjoy your breakfast and get up, so we won't miss the mass today!"

Christine was surprised by Erik's good mood. She was used to Erik being sad, unhappy, angry, cynical, even raving mad but now he was just friendly and in very good mood. Such a good mood actually, he managed to greet some people he already knew from the time he had been working at the cemetery. Then Christine noticed that he was showing those men, who had treated him badly, that he had risen far beyond them in social hierarchy and Erik really loved that. Only to the cleric Erik offered really heartfelt friendly greetings.

They were sitting in their usual places hidden from view behind a column when Christine noticed that Erik got a bit carried away with the music. He was supposed to sing but his voice was too strong, it filled the whole church and she noticed that common people stopped singing just to listen to Erik's angelic tenor voice. He wasn't even trying, he was just singing along... Should she tell him to lower his voice? Or encourage him to use it's full range? She decided to do the latter and rose her voice.

Erik glanced at her bewildered for a moment as her crystal clear soprano rose like it would in the opera. Usually she held back because she always claimed that a mass is no concert and everyone should be heard not just professional singers. When their eyes met he realized that she was singing for him. That was all he needed to use the full range of his voice, this time really trying to do his very best - what a different feeling that he was now singing for her.

When they finished the song, there was utter silence and even the cleric forgot what to do next, everyone mesmerized by the angelic voice they had just heard. When people started to look around if they could find the singer, Erik ducked down in his seat, pretending to be asleep. He did not want them to see him, he had just gotten carried away in his good mood and singing with Christine.

After the mass the cleric stopped Erik before he could sneak away through one of the sidedoors. "Monsieur Davisseau, I guess it was you who sang today and not an angel like some people believe?"

Erik nodded. "That was nothing, I got a bit carried away..."  
Christine smiled. That was typical of Erik, he was proud of his talent and he pretended to be unpretentious just to heighten the effect his show-off would have. But she did not want to spoil his fun, she knew how seldom he had any opportunity to enjoy himself.  
"I wanted to ask you, if you would like to sing in an oratorio? We still look for a tenor for the Christmas oratorio?"  
"Thank you, but no," Erik answered, "As much as I like to sing, I'm sure they won't accept me and I have had my fill of being rejected my whole life. But thank you for the consideration."

Instead of going home Erik insisted to go to the Bois de Bologne at daytime. "It is Eastersunday and it is a beautiful day. I refuse to hide away now, I... I always wanted to see the park at daytime and now we are going to do that!"  
"Are you sure?" Christine asked. She knew his reluctance to go out at daytime.  
"Yes, I am sure. I refuse to hide away just because I'm ugly. I am an honourable man now and I have no reason at all to hide away like a criminal." Then he took her hand and placed it on his arm. "Madame, let's go!"

They went to the park. It wasn't easy to ignore the fact that People were staring at them for Erik's mask just caught attention. When a man said to his wife: "What a freak wears a mask?" Erik said to Christine loud enough to make sure that man would hear it: "Look - he thinks he does not need a mask. Maybe someone should hand him a mirror?" Christine looked at the fat man. He wasn't as ugly as Erik, o no, but the fat body and the fat face glistening with sweat certainly was not appealing. "Erik, don't! You of all people should know better than to mock anyone's appearance", Christine scolded him.

They went through the park, Erik held his head high, his spine erect, he did not want to show any signs of deference or shame. "It is not my fault that my body is repulsive", he said, "And for once I refuse to be ashamed, I won't crawl away to the sewers just because my looks offend any human's eyes. Today I'll pretend to be normal. I'm just a normal man, enjoying a nice Sunday with my wife."

Christine walked beside him, her hand on his arm. She could not help to see the way Erik held a walking cane in is other hand - he did not use it to lean on, the cane never tipped the ground, he rather held it as if he might use it as a weapon any time. Erik really enjoyed walking arm in arm with Christine - his darling wife Christine. He was so happy, even the stares and the mockery was only a slight nuisance to him, only a reminder that where he was concerned there would never be untainted happiness.

They stopped at a small kiosk offering sweets and drinks. Erik directed Christine there to buy sweets. Christine noticed that he knew exactly what she liked. The shopkeeper handed Erik the small chocolate box and took the money. Erik ignored the man's curious stares at his mask.

When they went along some other ways in the park Erik started a lecture about the different plants. Christine did not know what to make of it - could he not simply enjoy a beautiful flower without giving her a botanic lesson? When he started to talk about some other forms of gardening, especially the beautiful gardens in Persia, then explained that "paradise" came from a Persian word for "garden" she interrupted him: "Erik, please stop it. I don't know why you are telling me all this and it certainly is interesting but I feel like a stupid child who can't follow the teacher if you do that. Can't we simply enjoy the beautiful park?" Erik flinched and stopped talking, he just handed her another piece of chocolate.

Suddenly Christine realized that giving her a lecture was Erik's way of sharing his joy with her. He could not talk about his feelings but he could talk about scientific facts. She wondered if he would give her a lecture on dogbreeding if he wanted to pet a puppy. "I did not mean to hurt you," she added softly, "I'm not as bright as you are, it's just too much information in too short time."

That moment a boy passed them. Suddenly Erik grabbed the boys hand and used his ventriloquism to whisper threatening: "Don't even think of it!" The boy's eyes went wide. The Erik added in a much more friendly way: "You're a horrible thief, I could see you sneaking up on me ten minutes ago. Try begging, with your puppy-face you are better off as a beggar." He took Christine's watch from the boys pocket and handed it back to her. Then he gave the boy a light slap in the face and sneered: "Off you go!"

Christine was astonished how gently Erik had reacted to the boy trying to pick their pockets. "Why didn't you call the police?" she asked.  
"Honor among thieves," Erik answered, "I know how it is to be only a small boy trying to survive on his own. Imprisonment wouldn't help at all, it would only harden him."

When they returned home Christine noticed how Erik relaxed visibly. "That was really an exciting adventure," Erik said cheerfully, "I rather liked it. Maybe we should repeat it next year?"  
Adventure? Christine stared at Erik bewildered. There was the man who had been an assassin, a torturer and executioner at the Shah's court in Persia, a man who had traveled the world, and he would call a normal walk to a park an adventure? Then she remembered just how many people they had met at the Bois. It certainly must have been frightening for Erik to go there when so many people were at the park to enjoy the sunshine - and all of them had been staring at his mask, she had noticed that. But then - nothing had happened, of course, they would talk behind his back but no one had even tried to come close to him.

When Erik was preparing their meal Christine went through one of the cupboards looking for something. She was standing on a chair for Erik had placed the cupboards at a convenient high for himself and Christine found that she needed a chair to reach everything. She did not complain, because it was Erik who did the whole housekeeping so he was right to have the kitchen convenient for him. She saw the bottle of honey wine and took it in her hands, reading the label.

"You know, I never tried mead," she said, "I'd like to taste it."  
Erik nearly dropped the pan. He took a couple of deep breaths, before he answered: "Whew, you are making this hard on me. Very hard indeed."  
"What? Doesn't make mead a good dessert wine?" Christine asked.  
"Child, you have no idea what you are suggesting right now," Erik mused, shaking his head, "You are only an innocent child and of course only referring to the taste of the wine. But after I told you what honey wine is traditionally used for..." He trailed off and went to the sink, took off his mask and splashed cold water in his face and onto his neck. Then he replaced the mask.  
Christine turned bright red when she realized what she had just implied without thinking about it. What to do now? Tell him she didn't want honey wine? Tell him she didn't want him? She saw his back turned to her as he was reaching for the plates, his hands shaking.  
"I wouldn't deny you if you asked," she heard her voice say. Did she really say that? She blushed even more.  
The plates shattered on the floor as Erik dropped them. He turned round and stared at her. Christine, standing on a chair like a girl, like a child, a bottle of honey wine in her delicate hand. Erik felt like the worst sort of beast right now, staring at her with his mouth open. Hopefully his full-face mask would hide his mouth so he wouldn't look like fool. He just hoped he was not drooling but he wasn't sure.

"I will never ask you!" he blurted out, "Erik will never ask that of his darling! Erik is a disgusting carcass and she is an innocent child - never! Erik must never dare take the risk of fathering a child, never, he can't do it, must not do it, must keep in control. Erik has ruined Christine's life bad enough, he can't cause further harm. Never! Never! I can't say that I led a virtuous life at any time... but Christine, darling, you're a virgin, you are a decent girl, I cannot... must not soil you with my filth. I'm repulsive and I know it, I've never known how to be gentle, caring... My hands have only been used to torture, so much blood... I should not even dare touch the floor at your feet with them, and yet... No! Erik, no! Erik you will not! Erik, you can not!" Erik now yelled at himself, fighting himself to come to a decision, to do the right thing. He looked at her one more time, as she climbed down from her chair and sat down, waiting for him to come to his senses again. "I should not do it," he whispered.

Christine looked at him as if she was expecting an answer directed to her and not Erik talking to himself again. She already knew that he talked to himself aloud when he fought for a decision.

Erik's only question to her was: "When?"

Christine burst into laughter. "Erik, you... you have a five minutes monologue berating yourself not to do it and then your only question to me is WHEN?" He reminded her of a small boy right now who knew he shouldn't open his Christmas present before Christmas but was too eager to get them to control his excitement.

Erik blushed and stared at his feet. He was ashamed of himself and did not know how to get out of this awkward situation. He started to pick up the shards, then took other plates and prepared their meals, lovingly arranging the food on the plates. When he sat the plates on the table he said softly: "I won't force you. Never. I'll never use any form of torture on you, I'd rather cut off my own hand - or any other limb. I just want you to know that I will never force you to do anything."  
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 _They have a nice Easter Sunday after all. As normal as it can be with Erik._


	49. Chapter 49

**Madness and Hope**

The next day - Easter Monday - Christine had to sing at a gala in the opera and Erik had the chance to go there for the Persian had already bought box five for the month, with a reservation for the next year.

During the gala, Erik suddenly asked: "My dear friend, I need your advice."  
"What have you done now?" the Persian asked expecting the worst.  
"Nothing, but I'm going to... and I need your help," Erik answered, his eyes fixed on the stage. Both of them were keeping their voices low and talking in Farsi so if anyone heard no one would understand.  
"I won't aid you in a crime!" the Persian scolded.  
Erik turned his head to look at his friend. "No, not a crime... well, maybe it is a crime... but I know for sure that I can't avoid doing it. No, I want to know how to please a woman?"

The Daroga stared at his friend. What was he talking about? "Erik, what do you want to know?" he asked bewildered.  
Erik blushed - his face was covered in a mask but his ears were visible and they turned bright red. Now the Daroga understood.  
"You ask ME for advice?" he asked, "But..."  
"You can't let me down," Erik replied, his voice had a slightly desperate tone, "I know most men turn to their fathers or elder brothers but I can't. I have only you to ask, you have been married, right now you have two mistresses and I know that you have been passed on like a challenge cup between the elder members of the ballet and the chorus. The more they claim to fear your evil eye the more they like the thrill of seducing you. You know they call you the tasty exotic fruit, claiming you to be a nice diversion to the usual flabby patron?"  
The Persian fell silent, utterly embarrassed by how much Erik knew about his most private life.

Erik went on, highly amused: "I overheard some conversations between these elder ballet dancers. Quite interesting, my friend, I must say."  
"Um, o, well... what do you want to know?" the Persian asked, "I was under the impression that you already know enough?" This was really awkward.  
Erik shrugged. "All of my... experiences have been very selfish, short and disgusting. But that won't do..."

The Daroga stared at the stage and pretended to concentrate on the program. How could he give Erik any advice? Erik, of all people? Maybe he should simply tell him to forget it and never try... or tell him to make sure it was pitch black and no one would see anything... Not strangling her might be a good advice... or maybe giving her something to make her sleep through the whole ordeal?

"Do I get any answer this evening?" Erik asked annoyed.  
"There is no instruction manual for a wife," the Persian answered.  
Erik gave a short laugh. "Well, there should be, my friend, I think girls should come with an instruction manual!"  
"I guess every man would like a manual like that..." the Daroga smirked.

Both fell silent and followed the gala more or less concentrating on the music.

Finally the Daroga said: "You want an answer - practice and patience."  
Erik stared at him bewildered. "Practice and patience? Stop talking in riddles!"  
"No riddle. That is my answer. It's like dancing, you need much practice to become a dancer. And Erik - in this dance let her take the lead."  
"Wonderful," Erik complained, "Now I know exactly nothing. At least give me the score!"  
"There is no score!" the Persian retorted, "Erik, there is no score, you have to extemporize together."  
"Improvise? Great. Two incompetents improvising together without any idea what to do," Erik gave a sigh, "If it was a symphony it would be like two musicians who did not even know how to hold their instruments trying to improvise something together... Horrible!"  
"If you feel that bad about it, just don't do it," the Persian answered.  
"But I want to," Erik said in a childlike voice.  
"Then stop complaining and do it!" the Daroga berated him. Erik was really a trial...

Erik looked at the program. "Christine is next," he said, "The Queen of the Night." He pulled down his mask a little to wipe his face with his handkerchief.  
"Erik, are you nervous?" the Persian asked.  
"No!" Erik exclaimed, then after a while added softly: "Yes. She's brilliant but I'm not sure she can call up the emotions she needs right now on stage."

When Christine started to sing, Erik relaxed visibly. Christine was very much in touch with the core of that aria, expressing so much anger that the Daroga wondered how that gentle girl could express such an emotion.

"When we tried this aria I actually thought she was literally going to kill me," Erik said, beaming with pride.

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 _Poor Daroga - Erik has appointed him the role of his therapist now. And Erik realizes that being married is not as easy as he had imagined._


	50. Chapter 50

_**Madness and Hope**_

After the gala Christine was on her way to her dressing room. She was used to admirers waiting for her in the corridor and walked past them, smiling a very much professional smile and taking the flowers and little gifts they offered her. Since she did not like to be called by the name Davisseau everyone knew that she preferred Christine. That was no wonder, "La Carlotta" had been La Carlotta and not using her surname - why shouldn't Christine do the same?

When she reached her dressing room, she saw Raoul standing at the door. He bowed to her very formally, greeting her as "Madame".  
"Please come in," she said. It wasn't unusual to allow a suitor into the dressing room. And since everyone knew she was married to an old unsightly dull man no one wondered she had a young suitor. On the contrary, they believed that Raoul de Chagny was coming off very well - he had had an affair with her but she married someone else so he could continue his affair without worrying about any scandal for she was married and another man would have to care for the "consequences" of that affair. If they had only known just how wrong they were.

"Christine, how are you?" Raoul asked, as soon as they were alone.  
"Thank you, Raoul. I'm fine. How are you?"  
Raoul looked at the mirror. Why had Christine been given her old dressing room? The one with that horrible mirror?  
"Is he...?" Raoul asked.  
Christine looked at the mirror. "Erik? Are you there? If you are, come in, I don't like you hiding there!" she said in a commanding voice Raoul had never heard from her lips.

The mirror opened and Erik came in. He wore a black suit and a fawn mask. "Good evening, Monsieur le Comte!" he greeted and gave a stiff bow. Raoul did not return the greeting, he gave a disgusted snort. Erik tried to ignore that. He could not risk a fight right now. Not in a small dressing room with Christine standing between them.

"I just wanted to know if Christine was well," Raoul said uneasy, "And I want to talk to her alone, so please be so kind as to leave us."  
Erik clenched his fists, the knuckles protruding white through his pale skin. He gnashed his teeth and tried to stay in control. "She's MY wife!" he hissed, barely managing to keep his voice low.  
Christine grabbed his shoulders and forced him to look down at her. "Yes, Erik, I am your wife and I am well aware of the gossip about the three of us. I assure you that there is nothing true about that gossip, I am faithful to you. But I really would appreciate to talk to Raoul alone." Suddenly she wished that the Persian was somewhere near to help her.  
Erik's breathing betrayed his fury. It was hard to control himself now. He glared at Raoul as he snarled: "Why can't you just leave us in peace?"

Raoul decided to give an honest answer as not to provoke Erik, he knew how dangerous that man was. "I just want to make sure she's well."  
"I'm not abusing her, as you might see! She's healthy and well!" Erik snapped.  
"I'd prefer to hear that from herself," Raoul stated calmly. He refused to show just how much he feared Erik.  
Christine cut in: "Erik, please go. Wait for me at the door, I really appreciate that you take me home safely every evening but right now I would talk to Raoul alone. You trust me, do you?"

Erik took a deep breath. "Yes, I do trust you," he whispered, then turned and fled from the room. He needed to release his fury somehow and all he could do now was to run through the cellars, pounding his fists against the walls until his hands were bleeding. Finally he had to stop, breathless and covered in sweat but calm enough to wait for Christine without having to fear he might hurt her in his anger. It wasn't easy to pretend he trusted her for he certainly did not. She was his wife, she would not leave him but he was not sure she would be able to resist to that handsome seducer.

Meanwhile Christine explained to Raoul that Erik was a considerate husband and her life wasn't bad, Erik certainly was not the most likeable companion but he was not abusing her.  
"If you want to get a divorce..." Raoul started.

Christine interrupted him: "No. If I asked for divorce I would be the guilty party. I neglect my duties as a housewife so he has to do that work, until now I did not fulfill any of my wifely duties. No, I have no right to ask for divorce and I don't even want to. Raoul, don't you understand that it is true what Erik promised me? I do not suffer in our marriage, I'm... well, happily ever after is not true either but... I'm not unhappy, I'm quite contend. I know you still hate him for killing your brother, Raoul, and I understand that. But please accept that he can be... well, good would be an overstatement but normal. Please accept that I am married to Erik and don't even want to leave him."

"I just wanted to be sure that you are well. We know Erik's violent nature and his mood swings. If you ever need any help - anything at all - please promise me that you come to me," Raoul said gently.  
"Thank you," Christine answered, "If I ever need help, I'll let you know."

After Raoul left, she turned to the mirror, opened it and checked that Erik was not there. With a sigh of relief she turned back to her dressing room to change her clothes and prepared to go home.

Erik really waited at the small sidedoor for her. "You did very well today," he greeted her. Christine saw blood on his hands as he bowed to her.  
"Erik, what happened?" she asked worriedly.  
"Nothing. I just had to let off some steam and... well, I think the walls are a little bit stronger than my fists, but only a little bit," he smirked.

They walked home in silence. When they entered their house Erik suddenly asked: "Is it true that you would not deny me if I asked?"  
Christine looked up at him, blushing. "It is true," she whispered, "But I'm scared."  
"Me too," Erik answered with a humorless chuckle, "I promise I'd be gentle and if you tell me you disliked something I'll stop it immediately. I promise." He hated himself for his weakness but after leaving his wife and that despicable handsome fop alone in her dressing room he could no longer stop himself from asking her. He wanted her, he wanted her to be his.

"All right," she answered, "But I'd like some of that wine first. And I'd like to have a bath and I want you to take a bath."  
"Of course. Please, take your bath, I'll prepare your room and the wine."

When Christine sat on her bed - dressed in a long, white nightshirt and a dressing gown - she wondered if she would have the courage to go through with it. She had told Erik she would not deny him and now she was scared stiff. The touch of his hands and his kiss had not been disgusting, but... she was scared. Erik had put new sheets onto her bed, decorated it with rose petals - where had he gotten rose petals while she took her bath? - and lit a few candles. The honey wine and two glasses sat on her night table.

When Erik entered her room she flinched. Then she looked at him and saw that he was dressed as if he was going out. He wore a suit, complete with a cravat, mask, hat, shoes, cape and even gloves. Every inch of his skin was covered, only his eyes were visible. That told her that he himself was scared too. The more he was scared, the more he covered himself. She just suspected him to wear two shirts beneath his suit.

He sat down beside her on the bed and poured them two glasses.  
"To you, my love," he said gently before draining his glass in one gulp.  
Christine sipped at her glass. She rather liked the sweet taste of the honey wine. When she had finished she waited for some effects but the honey wine had no other effects that other wine would have.  
She looked at Erik who was staring at the candle, twitching his hands nervously. Christine lied down on the bed on her back. She was scared - not disgusted at his touch but scared for she did not know what was going to happen and she was afraid it might be disgusting or painful.  
"I'll extinguish the light," Erik whispered, his voice shaking. The darkness helped him - he did not want her to see him.

"Take off your hat and your shoes!" Christine scolded him as she felt him climbing on the bed.  
"Sorry..." he whispered and got off the bed again.  
"Cape also," she reminded him, "and the gloves." She wondered if he was as scared as she was right now. The thought held a little comfort for her and gave her some self-confidence.

It was nothing like one of them had expected. To both of them it was rather awkward and unpleasant but to Christine's surprise there wasn't much pain, though it surely did hurt.

Suddenly Erik was gone in the darkness and she did not know why or where he had gone. He returned to her some time later, again fully dressed in another suit but without hat and cape. He lightened the candle and poured the rest of the honey wine into the glasses.

"I hope I did not hurt you too much?" he asked, his voice full of concern.  
"No, it wasn't that bad," she answered, her face red with shame. Why was she ashamed? They were a married couple, there was no need to be ashamed. But her feelings did not obey her reasoning.  
"Thank you, my darling," Erik said seriously, "That was the greatest gift I ever received. I have no idea how to make up for that - even if I could give you the world it would never be enough. I'm so sorry."  
"It wasn't that bad," Christine tried to assure him and Erik smirked.  
"But you did not like it," he stated.  
What to do now? Lie to him? No, that would not be a good idea. "Change of subject. Now!" she said firmly.

Erik took something out of his pocket. It was small jewel box. He handed it to her and she could see him smile as she opened it. It contained a necklace, a ring and a bracelet made of gold, ruby and diamonds.

"My grandmothers," he said gently, "She got them from my grandfather after their wedding. My father gave it to my mother and now you shall have it."  
Christine did not know if she wanted to have them - not with the knowledge how Erik came to have them - but then... he certainly was an heir to his parents. And it meant much to him to give her this gift.

"You are free now," Erik said, "If you want to get a divorce, I'll shoulder the blame and confess to forcing you to the marriage. If you want to be a widow, you'll be that at sunrise. Whatever you want, it's yours."  
Christine stared at him. He did not make any sense right now. Hadn't she just proven to him that she accepted being his wife? He was talking about suicide! Suddenly she was angry at him.

"Erik, you damnable fool!" she yelled at him, "How can you even talk about something like that? How can you still doubt me like that? If you LOVE me, you never, you hear me, NEVER talk about leaving me or committing suicide! That's no love! I should knock some sense into you!"

Erik stared at her, then he answered helplessly: "I thought you wanted to be free?"  
"Did I say that?" she asked, still furious.  
"No, but I thought..."  
"Stop thinking - it does not make any sense! For all your cleverness you are the most stupid idiot in this world! Can't you accept that I do not want to leave you? My life is not ruined, my life is not sad, why do you insist on hurting both of us like that? Why are you too stubborn, too blind, too stupid to see that I ACCEPT you as you are?" As if to demonstrate her words she snatched his mask away, grabbed his neck with both hands and pressed her lips against his. Erik sat stock-still, he suddenly felt lightheaded and could not think. When she pulled away he just stared at her, his lips slightly parted, a small bruise on his lower lip where it had collided with her teeth. She was not sure what had possessed her to act like this - was it the rage at Erik's behavior? The annoyance with Erik's habit of spoiling every moment of happiness himself?

"Don't forget breathing," she scolded him, not so angry any more.  
Erik released his breath. His head was spinning, he did not understand anything of what had happened. He had been sure that after he had taken her, she would hate him and never wanted to see him again. He had been sure she would consider this rape... but she didn't. Why? How? How could she not hate him after he had been so selfish?

Christine took her glass of honey wine, drained it, then took Erik's glass and drained it too. He just watched her. "I want to sleep now," she said and Erik got up automatically.  
"And where do you think you are going?" Christine asked annoyed. She wasn't sure if it was still her anger or if it was the effect of the wine that was now setting in. Erik said nothing, just stared at her, his mind blank. "You might as well sleep here," she continued in a much softer voice.

"I don't want to give you nightmares..." he muttered, "I don't want to scare you waking up next to this..." He gestured helplessly to his face.  
"You might sleep with your mask on, but for the last time: Take off your shoes!"

A few hours later Christine was asleep, but Erik was still awake. He could not sleep, he just lay there on her bed, staring at her, still not able to believe this had really happened. He pushed a strand of her beautiful blonde hair out of her face and whispered: "My angel, I love you so much." Then he smiled as he heard her snoring softly.

When Christine woke the next day she was alone in the house. She was used to that, Erik always got up long before her. She smiled as she saw that he had left her breakfast at her night table, along with a bunch of dark red roses. Beneath the roses was a musical score with Erik's rather indecipherable handwriting. It was not written in red but in blue ink. Since their wedding Erik used mainly blue ink, knowing she disliked the red ink for it reminded her of blood.

When she had finished her breakfast she looked at the musical score. There were no words, just music for a harp. She looked over to the harp and wished she could play it. On the last page of the musical score Erik had written something and after some time she was able to make out his handwriting. It read: "Now I know what David played to free Saul of his madness."

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 _Now that chapter wasn't easy. Writing a wedding night (of sorts) without anything that would make it mature content. I imagine their wedding night to be not romantic but rather awkward - Christine is a virgin and very shy, Erik hates his body and is very reluctant to reveal any part of it._

 _For those who don't know the story of King David from the Bible - King Saul went mad at some times and only David playing the harp could soothe him and bring him back to his senses. Erik rather likes that story._

 _I hope you like that chapter! Please review!_


	51. Chapter 51

**Madness and Hope**

Erik could barley concentrate on his work that day. He hadn't slept much and his head was still reeling from the previous night. It had been far too much for him and he wished he had a chance just to hide away for a few weeks until he had his feelings under control. It had been far too much and he did not understand how Christine could stand being his wife after what he had done to her. Sure, he had tried to be gentle, he had tried to undress as little as possible and it had been dark - but he had felt like a child abuser afterwards, his guilt overwhelming so he had really been willing to let her go and never see her again. But she did not want him to let her go... he could not understand it.

He was still staring at one really boring blueprint, not really seeing anything, when the door opened and the office boy told him that the head of the authority wanted to see him. Erik reluctantly obeyed. He had no wish to enter a discussion or get a new difficult task - right now the boring ones were a challenge to him.

"I have a new task for my hellhound," the short man stated, "Something different from the boring backoffice paperwork."  
Erik said nothing, just stood there waiting for instructions.  
"In the outskirts a band of gypsies build some sort of... well, even shack would be an exaggeration... they build a something and they don't even own the ground but the owner does not dare to throw them out. So it is up to us to have the... pile of rubbish they call a house... removed."  
"Gypsies? Which clan?" Erik asked.  
"What do you mean which clan?"  
"There are many gypsy clans and they have different languages and a slightly different culture as well," Erik explained, "It would be easier if I knew whom we are dealing with."  
"Come with me!"

They got into a cab and drove to the slum. Erik shuddered, he disliked these quarters. The stench, the closeness to so many people... he really hated that.  
When they reached the parcel of land the saw four policemen discussing with fifteen male gypsies, five women and some children. Erik rolled his eyes. "They'll never get anywhere discussing. Gypsies don't follow the rules, they have their own law, you can't reason with them like this," he said and listened for a while. He did not listen to the policemen or the men who spoke with them, he listened to the language the gypsies spoke among themselves.

"Good, I can understand them," he said, "Now, please, if you want this to get done let me speak. I'll try my best but... whatever happens, just stay out of it."

Erik got out of the cab, went to the policemen, playing with his walking cane. He gave a small bow and asked the policemen what was going on. The police told him that the gypsies refused to leave.

Erik turned to the gypsies and said in Romani: "A good day to you. I'd like to talk to your... patriarch." He stumbled over the words and had a strange accent. It had been years since he last had spoken Romani and he had never really mastered that language. He understood much more than he was able to say.  
The gypsies stared at him. An official who spoke Romani?  
When a young and strong man approached him and build himself up before Erik he just laughed. "Are you kidding? Your are no master. Ah, I see - I want to talk to your grandmother." Grandmother did not mean that the woman really was the grandmother of the clan, it meant that she was the matriarch. Erik knew that some clans had matriarchs and if he was right it would make things much easier.  
The gypsies started to discuss among themselves and Erik interrupted: "Please - you may call my... friends... stupid pigs all you like but you do not want to offend me for I know how to deal with an insult." He spoke very slowly and made grammatical errors but they understood him. He was angry with himself that he did not know any word for "colleagues" so he had just used "friends".

Two gypsies approached him with their hands hidden beneath their cloaks. Erik said to the policemen: "Whatever happens - STAY OUT OF THIS!" Since the policemen had no intention to fight - they knew they were hopelessly outnumbered - they retreated.

Erik did not back away. He just waited for them to attack - calmly, his lasso now visibly in one hand, his walking cane - which was made of steel and had a sharp ending - in the other. He had no intention to kill but he was ready to do just that. There was a certain unease in the eyes of the two men and Erik knew he had already won. They looked in his amber eyes and knew that this man was a killer - and they themselves were not, they were just bullies.

"You wanted to speak with me?" an old women dressed in rags said and came towards Erik. Erik suddenly changed his posture, bowed slightly before her and greeted her with all courtesy he could remember.  
She laughed at him. "I'm no queen but thank you. You have a silver tongue and you speak our language. How so?"

Erik took a deep breath. Should he reveal his past? He had traveled with many different gypsy shows in his childhood and there was a chance that she had heard of the living corpse. He decided to take the risk. "I was raised by gypsies," he said, "Though I'm none by blood."  
"I see. You like a drink? Come inside."

Erik turned to the policemen and his superior. "This will take time - maybe you want to wait somewhere else?"  
"What happened?"

"Nothing yet. She invited me so I'm her guest and I'm as save as I can be - that does not go for you so you better stay away. I'll try to talk her into leaving."

They entered the small hut which was stuffed with various things. It looked like a dumping ground rather that a place where anyone could live. Erik tried not to grimace - he was so used to wearing a mask it was sometimes very hard to keep control of his expression. Then they started the somewhat awkward communication. Erik already knew that she was trying to be polite in her own way trying to figure out to which family clan he would be related to. Of course there was no real relation, he was no gypsy, which made him an outcast, a pariah at best, in her eyes. But then he was a French official, and in a french society the gypsies were outcasts...

Erik tried to get information about her, her family clan and their ties to other families. He knew if they had a mutual acquaintance everything would be much easier. But as much as they tried, they did not find anyone.

Finally the old woman said: "Maybe I heard about you - what was your showbiz name?"  
"That was long ago," Erik sighed, "But when I was travelling with gypsy clans I was announced as "the Living Corpse". I did not like that alias, but it drew in the crowds..."  
"Living Corpse? I heard about the Living Corpse, though I never saw you perform. I was told you had quite a talent for music and legerdemain and you absolutely LOVED self-dramatization, you could not even drink a glass of water without making a show of it."  
Erik smirked. That was certainly not something he had wanted to hear but it told him that whoever had told her of him had to actually known him. "And who told you...?" he asked curiously.  
"The cousin of my sons mother-in-law."  
That was a very close relation, at least in the ways of family clans. "What's her name? Her showbiz name?" Erik asked. He did not remember the real names but if she had been a performer he might remember her.  
"Ruby Danseuse"  
"Ruby?" Erik tried to remember. It had been so many years... too many decades that is and he suddenly felt very old. There had been dancers, very good ones, and he still remembered their bodies and their clothes, even their dances, but not their names.  
"She always wore a red dress in her youth," the old woman tried to help him, "She was one of the best dancers. She had three earrings in her left ear..."  
Suddenly Erik could remember a certain picture. He had been about fourteen years old and the dancers and himself had worked together to make the show bigger, earning more money. There had been an act where he would play the violin and a girl in a red dress would dance to his tune. All he could remember to his shame were her delicate bare feet and her long legs when the red dress had flown up as she was dancing. He could not remember her face, her hair or anything else, only her gorgeous legs in the light of the torches that had been put up. But he could not ask this old woman about Ruby's legs...  
"You're blushing," the old women commented dryly, "I guess you remember her."  
"Um, o, maybe... Did she wear an ankle chain in the shape of a snake?"  
"She still does."  
"Then I know her. We were on the same show for about half a year... then I went with another group and she stayed with her family."  
"That's not what she told me. She said her father cast you out for he had noticed how you stared at her, threatening to kill you should he ever see you again. What a shame, the next violinist wasn't half as good as you were..."

This was getting even more awkward for now it was very much personal. He actually could remember the beating he had received from the girls father but he would not tell that women. Now was the time to talk business.

"You know that I am here in my capacity as building inspector," he started.  
"Yes, I know. You want us to leave, they try to get rid of us for weeks."  
"Maybe you understand that this is not your ground?"  
"O, but it is. No one can own the land, no one can own the sea or the air. Well, I thought you might have remembered..."  
That women was absolutely annoying for Erik found he rather agreed with her. But he wouldn't tell her. He had a job to do. "I know your way of living, but right now I can't tolerate it. You have to leave."  
"Maybe we can come to an agreement?"  
Bargaining. That much was to be expected. At least they were bargaining with him when they had refused to acknowledge the authority of the police. "Very well. What do you have to offer? But you must understand that I can't make a bargain without talking to my..." he disliked to say superior but he did not know what word to use, so he just gestured to where the short man was waiting in the carriage. She nodded, she knew he was just a messenger and not the one to decide.

Three hours later Erik returned to the waiting cab and reported: "Fine. They are willing to leave in three month, but not one day sooner."  
"I was told they would never leave...?"  
Erik laughed: "Because you went in with your authority - which they do not recognize - and tried to force them. I offered a bargain - they could stay for the summer without being troubled by us if they leave in autumn."  
"You can't BARGAIN with the law!"  
"Why not? I'm not breaking any rules, you just hand me the file with a deadline to have it done. If the deadline is next Christmas I don't see any problem for anyone. I'm not breaking rules, just bending them enough to get to a practical solution," Erik answered.  
His superior laughed. "O my, you always thought rules were made of rubber the way you used bend them." It was obvious to him that this was absolutely not legal but he had the choice between a long and rather nasty procedure or a practical solution that might be the easier way.  
"Not rubber," Erik answered slyly, "Silk. Ever tried to break silk?"

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 _Living a normal life means to go to work every day - if you like it or not. At least Erik knows that and does what needs to be done._

 _In this case he has the advantage - he knows that making a bargain is much easier than trying to force them. He just takes the easy path._

 _Please review!_


	52. Chapter 52

_**Madness and Hope**_

When Erik came home that evening he found Christine had already gone to the opera - yes, today she was to sing the Zerlina in Don Giovanni, she was only understudy in this production but the other singer had reported sick.

He should do the laundry, he thought, but he hadn't slept last night and it had been a very hard day. Maybe he should allow himself a small nap? He had enough time before the curtain would raise - and Zerlina would only appear in the middle of act one. Erik allowed himself to lie down on his couch - he still hadn't bought a bed for himself - covering his eyes with one arm. Just resting his eyes for a few moments.

When he opened them he saw the worried faces of Christine and the Persian over him. He sat up utterly confused. "What happened? Aren't you to sing tonight?" he asked.

"Erik, are you okay? You missed the opera tonight," Christine said.  
"I... what?" Erik could not believe it. He took out his pocket watch - it was eleven o'clock in the night. "O my, I... I just... I'm sorry!"  
The Daroga asked: "Are you alright? When you did not show up in our box I was terribly worried. Christine asked me to take her home, she too was worried, something might have happened to you. You gave us a fright when we found you lying here."  
Erik shook his head and looked around if he could find one of his masks or at least his false nose. Then he shook his head and said: "Nothing. I was just tired and wanted to take a nap... maybe I'm beginning to feel my old age..." He gave a sideglance to Christine as he continued in Farsi: "And it is not that I actually slept last night..."

The Persian did not know what to say, he wanted to slap Erik for being that indecent, but he already knew that Erik had a much different view on what he would share with his friend and what he would keep to himself than anyone else. "O. Then I guess you are alright. Good night then." He left the couple alone, wondering if Erik had really gone through with it or was just pretending. Whatever, Christine was well and obviously very worried when he had asked her why Erik wasn't there to hear her sing. Whatever happened, Christine had not been harmed and she showed concern for Erik's well-being like any wife would. That was a very good sign.

"I'm sorry I missed the opera tonight," Erik said when they were alone, "I guess I just had a hard day at work."  
"You do not need to apologize for being tired," Christine said, "But tell me - how long do you normally sleep?"  
"Well, I..." Erik got up, put on his mask and went to the kitchen to prepare their dinner. "I get up at 4:30 in the morning, for then I can work from 5:30 to about 16:00 or 16:30, so I can do some housekeeping before going to the opera or giving you a music lesson."  
"But Erik - we seldom go to bed before midnight," Christine gasped.  
Erik just nodded and asked if she would like a meal or if he could simply fix something for he still felt tired.  
"No wonder you are exhausted," Christine answered, "Please, you need to take better care of yourself. You need more sleep. What good would it be if you work yourself to death?"  
Erik stared at her. "I don't understand..." he said.  
"Erik, you have to take care of yourself. If I should help you with the housekeeping or if we should hire a maid, tell me. I want you to take care of yourself, will you do that for me?"  
"I don't understand... what do you want me to do?" Erik asked.  
Christine gave a sigh. How had this man survived so long without knowing how to care for himself? "I want you to get enough sleep, eat enough food, go to the doctor if you feel sick and most important - tell me if you need something!"

Erik pondered her words for a while. He did not understand why he should care for that body of his. He had never cared for it, he hated it. That body was ugly and he hated every time it forced him to satisfy it's needs, be it food, sleep or whatever. In long and painful years he had actually become so detatched from his body that he found it difficult to feel its needs if they weren't strong enough. But why would she care? The sooner he died the sooner she could get married again...

"Erik? Did you hear me?" Christine's voice broke him from his thoughts.  
"Hmmm? O, yes, yes. Whatever you want," he answered, hoping this was the right answer but when he saw Christine's annoyed expression he knew it wasn't. "Sorry, I was thinking..."  
"About what?" she inquired.  
"Why would you want me to care for that abomination that my soul is trapped in?"  
"Because I do care for you!" Christine yelled at him, "Because I care for you and I want you to do the same! I don't want you to die because you neglect yourself! I want you alive."

"That is... wonderful! I love you so much, o my darling, I love you and... I can't even begin to tell you how much I love you!"

After their dinner Erik sat there, looking at her. Christine knew that look too well by now - when Erik's eyes went wide - she wondered just how big his eyes could become - and he allowed the light to be caught in his amber eyes making them look like dark honey, that was his best version of a puppy face. At least as long as he wore a mask, without his mask it was only grotesque. Erik wanted his good night kiss. In that way he was like a small boy, he really wanted her to kiss him but he would not dare asking for it. He would just sit there, looking up to her. How could he look up to her when he was so much taller than she was?

Suddenly Christine smiled at him. In moments like these she felt she really loved him. "Erik, if you want to kiss me you can ask," she said softly.  
"But if you refuse...?" he asked like a child afraid of punishment.  
Christine gave a sigh. "I only refuse when I'm angry with you, you know that."  
"Erik has been a good boy," Erik answered, but this time he was deliberately talking in third person about himself and he had a very playful tone.  
Christine had to smile. He was so childlike, so vulnerable right now. How could this man be so childlike when he had been such a monster not long ago? "Come here, Erik, I'll give you your good night kiss."  
Erik crawled to her on hands and knees. He wanted to look up to her, right now he liked acting like he was a child. It was so good to feel her gentle touch. He waited for her to kiss his forehead, but she bent down a little deeper to kiss him on the lips. It was still a shy kiss but it felt so wonderful.  
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 _Erik is not a young man and has to face the fact that he is not as strong as he had been in his youth. Next chapter will be up tomorrow! Thanks for reading and please review!_


	53. Chapter 53

_**Madness and Hope**_

The closer the premiere of Carmen came, the more nervous Erik and Christine got. Christine did all rehearsals, Erik tried his best to teach her - but Carmen simply was a role that did not fit her. Christine always hit the notes, that was no problem, her voice was strong enough to fill the opera but there was no emotion. She could not be seductive, she simply couldn't. Dancing was something as well - Carmen dances for Jose when she tries to seduce him. The ballet mistress had no idea about gypsy dances and the steps she had shown her were absolutely awful. Not that Christine couldn't do them, no, she actually could dance, not like a ballerina but she wasn't bad either - but she did it as if she was an automaton.

This affected the music lessons as well. Erik had always been a very encouraging teacher, he knew exactly how to get Christine to do her best but right now he was close to losing control and yelling at her. He asked himself how Christine - who hit every note with perfection - could sing any role so soulless, so empty, so hollow as if she had forgotten everything he ever taught her. He was close to yelling at her, and even worse, he felt the urge to hit her and that was something he could never allow himself. He had to change something or he would really lose control and hurt her. He would not allow himself to punch his wife. He would not allow himself to stoop so low as to beat up his wife.  
"That won't do," Erik said and took a deep breath to calm himself, forcing himself so unclench his fists, "No gypsy would dance like that. No. Look - gypsy dance is not so much about the right steps, they don't do classic ballet, it's more the emotion, the feeling. Don't worry about a wrong step, that does not matter, if you feel like kicking your feet, do so, if you don't, leave it - it does not matter. And those steps... well, let's say that the ballet mistress had never seen a real gypsy dancer. It's more like... like..." He ran his hand through his sparse brown hair, at a loss for words. Then he took his violin and played a gypsy tune. It was so much easier for him to express those emotions in music than in words.

Christine stared at him. She understood he was trying to help her but she had no idea how anyone could dance to that tune and it's strange rhythm. Erik tried another one, with the same effect - none. She simply did not understand this sort of dance though she had to admit that she liked the music.

"Erik, I give up. Tomorrow I tell the managers I can't sing Carmen. It would be a fiasco - you are absolutely right, I sing it like an automaton, I move around on stage like a marionette. Carmen simply is not a role for me," Christine sighed.

"No, you can't give up! If you give up now, you'll lose the position of the prima donna to that fat hippopotamus of a singer - the managers have a list, they are evaluating and giving points. You are ten points..." Erik stated but Christine did not allow him to finish his little speech.  
"What list? How do you know?"  
"Well..." Erik got up from his chair and started pacing the room, flexing his fingers nervously, "When I went there to give them their money back as I had promised, I found the list in the safe. Since then I keep checking. Just looking, nothing bad. O please, don't give me that face, I do nothing except looking!"

Christine gave a sigh. Old habit's die hard. She just hoped Erik had really done nothing but to look at the list but right now she did not feel like asking him. She was tensed up herself and felt like screaming but she did not dare - she knew Erik was already struggling to control himself and if she would provoke him in the slightest manner he would certainly hurt her. Maybe she would just tell his friend and leave it to him to do the interrogation. He would not fall for Erik's lies as easily as she did.

Erik stopped in front of Christine, just out of reach. "Darling, please, if you refuse Carmen it's negative score and you loose. If you sing but not very good you might still win for the other two are far behind according to the manager's score. Really. Please, I know it is very hard for you to play a role like Carmen, but please remember - you are just playing, you mustn't even like her. Hate her all you like but play her." Suddenly he got an idea: "Play her as the villain of the opera - as a female version of Don Giovanni. But play her, for god's sake, play her!"

"I'll try..." Christine answered but she was sure she would never make it.

Erik sat down, deep in thought. He started absently to scratch his forehead until his skin broke and a few drops of blood fell on his hand, only then did he stop scratching. Now he started nail biting. Christine wondered if she could risk telling him to stop or if it would be better to wait until he was in better mood. Erik surely needed to release his frustration but scratching himself sore or biting nails was nothing she wanted to see. But then - Erik had always lived alone, maybe he was not even aware of his bad habits.

Suddenly his head jerked up and he said: "I think I have an idea. You should see how real gypsies dance. Maybe that will help you. There are gypsies in Paris and I know where to find them. Do you want to try?" Christine just nodded. Anything that would get this anger out of his eyes, this dark threat that he might lose control and harm her any time now. Right now she was afraid of him, knowing that the monster she had feared was still alive, he kept it securely caged but if it would ever surface again it would be terrible.

"I'll go for a walk," Erik said, it was late in the evening but he needed to do something to calm down. A walk in the darkness might help - and he could only hope some stupid thief would try to rob him, he would just love a chance to hurt someone in his anger - anyone but not his wife.

He went to the Seine and stared into the black water. It was dark, but he could see better than most people at night. His anger was gone and now he felt ashamed - he had been far too close to hurt her to be comfortable with. He had frightened her, he knew it. She had seen his fury and she knew his bad temper, he had seen it in her eyes no matter how he had tried to keep in control, he had scared her - again. The masked man gave a heavy sigh. So much for 'I need to be loved and everything will be good' - such a childish dream. The worst thing was that he knew perfectly well that he was capable of hurting her. This time she had done nothing to provoke him, she had tried her best and he had been angry because she could not to better. He knew he shouldn't be angry but admire her serious attempt. What if she really provoked him someday? He felt like the most vile of creatures.

Then he looked up at the stars. It was a wonderful night and the stars were shining. He had always loved the stars. Giving up is no option in one's fight for survival. Life had taught him this, he could not give up.  
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 _Sorry, today I sometimes get the warning that this server has problems. I hope you can read this chapter and I will try to upload the next chapter tomorrow - if there are no more server problems._

 _Please review._


	54. Chapter 54

**Madness and Hope**

The following Sunday Erik took Christine to a place in the outskirts where gypsies were with their tents and their caravans. Christine was excited like a child going to a circus, Erik, wearing his false nose and not the mask, was tensed up and carefully avoided coming too close to anyone. He did not trust himself not to hurt someone if someone dared to touch him. To make sure he would not accidentally do something even worse he had asked the Daroga to come with him. Right now the Persian felt like the fifth wheel, but he had not dared to tell Erik that he did not like to accompany him. If Erik felt he needed a watchdog, the Daroga would never dare to turn him down, he knew exactly the possible consequences, though he was not sure he would be able to prevent them, if things were going badly.

They stood at the tent, watching gypsy girls dance for nearly half an hour. Christine tried to understand what they were doing, she even memorized the melody of the violinist and the steps of the dancers, but she still could not grasp the feeling of the gypsy music. Erik stood next to her, observing her, then the dancing girls, then again her. Maybe the Daroga was the only one who was able to enjoy the show, for Erik knew that they saw the young girls and not the women who really knew how to dance.

When the gypsy who had played the violin went around with his hat in his hand to collect coins, Erik grabbed his arm and whispered in Romanese: "Nice show - I want to see the good dancers!" The man just nodded and continued to collect the coins. Christine wanted to go, but Erik held her back. "No, wait. Maybe we can get a private little dancing lesson with one of the really good dancers. Just wait."

When the tent was empty except for Erik, Christine, the Persian and the gypsy he approached them. "And who do you want to see?" the gypsy asked, "You know that a private dance is very expensive."  
"I have been told that a woman called Ruby Daneuse was here?" Erik asked.  
Christine looked at the Persian who just shrugged. He did not understand Romanese either.  
"She does not dance any more," the gypsy answered.

"Tell her she will when Death himself plays the violin. She'll understand. Bring her to me this afternoon!" With that he handed the gypsy a small piece of paper and a silver coin. Then he turned to Christine and the Persian: "Let's go, I've had more than enough of these amateurs here - they know nothing! Nothing! When I was a child the elders would have beaten the crap out of us if our performance was only trice as good as theirs!"

In the afternoon Christine was getting nervous if the gypsy was coming or not. "Gypsies don't need watches - she'll come before sunset, that's all I need to know. If you have an appointment with a gypsy at three o'clock he'll come between three and five. If you have an appointment with a German he'll be there at three. If you have an appointment with a Persian, you might meet him between noon and midnight and if you have an appointment with an Indian you'll need much luck to meet him at all. Different cultures, different opinions on the term punctuality."

It was about six o'clock when a knock on the door alerted them that a visitor was there. Erik stood up, checked if his mask was in place and straightened his shoulders, then he opened the door. An old women, a bit shorter even than Christine, stood there. She wore her long grey hair open and a plain grey dress. She was not slim but not fat either. Her shoulders were broad and her arms muscular like a man's.

Erik and the women stared at each other for some time before Erik asked her to come inside.  
"Ruby Danseuse?" Erik asked, his voice shaking. He remembered a beautiful girl of sixteen - of course she was older now.  
"Le Morte Vivant?" the woman asked, equally baffled. She remembered a boy who was not much taller than herself - now there was a tall man. He was still slim and wore his mask but he had much less hair than she remembered - the boy she had known had worn a long brown mane.

They sat down and Erik offered her wine. She took it and asked for food. Erik went to the kitchen and brought them red wine and niblets. Christine found the behaviour of the woman rude but Erik did not care - obviously he did not consider it rude. Erik told the gypsy that Christine did not understand Romanese so they had to speak French.

"Now, why do you seek me out after so many years?" the woman asked.  
"I need you to teach this young lady to dance like a gypsy," Erik answered.  
The old woman stared at Christine, then at Erik. "Why would you want me to teach your daughter?" she asked.  
"She's not my daughter, she's my WIFE!" Erik yelled at her deeply offended.  
"Your... your wife? Tell me, how did you get a beauty like her to marry you? How many men did you kill to get her?"

Christine wondered just how well the gypsy women knew Erik.

"None!" Erik said, "She married me of her own free will."  
Christine could not stop herself from objecting: "That's not what I remember." But she left it at that. She just wanted Erik to know that she had not forgotten that he surely had killed but this stranger did not need to know the details.

"Tell me, Ruby Danseuse, do you still dance?" Erik asked.  
"Tell me, Le Morte Vivant, do you still play the violin?" Ruby retorted.

Erik took his violin and tuned it a little bit, then he gave her a nod and started a melody. The old woman surely knew how to dance and she was much better than the girls Christine had seen earlier that day. The gypsy woman was old, her face wrinkled and so was the skin on her arms and legs, but her movements were graceful and sensual. She moved in perfect harmony with the music, dancing not only with her feet but with her whole body, with every fibre of her body, even her hair was part of that dance.

When the dance ended Christine stared at the woman, astonished. That woman was really good.  
Ruby laughed and nodded to Erik, who put his violin aside and went to her, they stood so close they nearly touched. Then he looked down at her, his eyes sparkling, as he said in a deep voice that reminded of a snarling lion: "You still dance, Ruby, and you still wear that snake on your left ankle."  
The woman refused to be intimidated and answered: "And you still play, but I know that you no longer perform. What a shame."  
"What a shame indeed," Erik snarled at her, "You should still be dancing."

He took a step back and relaxed. "I mean it, you still turn every men's head," he smirked. Suddenly Christine felt a pang of jealousy. Was Erik actually FLIRTING with that woman? Was this really HER Erik, who was flirting? Suddenly she realized that she had thought of him as her's.

"Now, what about me?" Christine asked.  
"Well... you need to get out of that dress, you can't dance with this one. You need something casual and you should try to dance barefoot," the gypsy advised, then turned to Erik: "You - out. I need to talk to her alone. I can't tell this shy girl how to get better acquainted with her own body with you staring at her."  
Erik refused.  
The gypsy gave a sigh: "You only frighten her. Women's business - now out you go!"  
"It's my home and I stay!" Erik refused stubbornly, "And I know that you want to steal - I won't have it. I know your ways."  
"I'm your guest, I won't steal. If you had not invited me, I would already have stolen your nice little spoons."

Erik finally agreed to leave the room, but not the house.

"So, you want to learn how to dance?" the old woman asked Christine.  
"I have to... I need to learn it. I am a singer and I have to sing Carmen at the opera - Erik thinks I need to... understand gypsy dances to play that role right," Christine answered honestly.  
"Carmen? Opera? I know nothing about that," the gypsy answered.  
"That's not important! Just teach her to dance!" Erik's voice came from the piano. He was eavesdropping and used his ventriloquism to talk to them. Christine should have guessed that much. Sometimes she was simply angry at him and wished she could just slap him.

The old woman smiled at her: "My dear, if you want to dance you need to feel your body. Dress in something casual."  
Christine did as she was told. She now wore a simple green dress, a very casual one, she would only wear when she was alone at home. The old women seemed to be satisfied. "Feeling better?" she asked. Christine nodded, not sure if she really felt better.

Now the old woman just told Christine to try to feel her body. Then she called Erik and asked him to play something.  
"Now, try to feel the music. Don't bother about any steps there is no right or wrong, just try to feel the music with your body. He -," she pointed to Erik, "- had always felt music like no one else does. He knows how to play. Just try to feel the music and go along with it."

Erik played a gypsy tune, a soft one this time. Christine stood there and tried to feel the music, then she just used her hands to move along with the tune. "Is that right?" she asked.  
"There is no right or wrong. If you feel it only in your hands, use them," the old woman told her, then she blinked at her: "When you feel it in your belly you found the right tune. And you - don't try to force her. That girl is far too detached from her own body to become a dancer anyway. All I can to is to give her a little insight."

Erik gave a small sigh. Christine needed to feel it, maybe she would be able to sing Carmen - she need not be brilliant, just good enough. He played a different tune. Christine actually felt the music, but she did not dare make the moves she felt. It wasn't decent for a woman to move like that. She looked at the old woman who was dancing and obviously enjoying her dance. There was nothing modest about her.

"Don't try to hold back!" the gypsy laughed, "I'm a woman and he is your husband - there is nothing to be ashamed of! Just enjoy yourself!"

It was a weird dancing lesson, one were they finally emptied three bottles of red wine, even Christine had two or three glasses. She did not like the gleam in Erik's eyes as he played yet another tune - Erik had changed his position from just sitting there and playing to more or less dancing with his violin. She wondered about his graceful moves. It was true, Erik felt the music in his body as did the old gypsy woman despite the fact that she was drunk. How improper for a woman to get drunk!

Then Erik played another tune. One that was utterly different from the gypsy music he had played before but different from opera music or from his other compositions. It was... Christine felt the music. She felt as if he was tickling her with music. When she looked at him she saw a mischievous gleam in his amber eyes. He knew exactly what he was doing. Christine could not help giggling, she found she enjoyed it - it was improper but she enjoyed it.

"It had been my fault all along," Erik exclaimed happily, "I just needed to find the right tune for you! I think I have it now!"

"Then I'll leave you two," the gypsy said, "Have fun!"

Erik bowed deeply to her and handed her some gold coins. "Thank you, Ruby Danseuse, thank you very much," he said warmly.  
"My name is Baraka," she said.  
"Erik"  
Then she left.

"I'm not going to find her again," Erik said, a bit sadly, "Now that she knows I'm here she won't come back to Paris."  
"I thought she was rather fond of you?" Christine asked.  
Erik barked a laugh: "No, she's not. We were at the same circus when she was sixteen and I was fourteen. Her father did not like the way I looked at her when she was dancing to my music and... let's say I learned a lesson about staying away from daughters if their fathers are strongmen at the circus! If I had not been able to climb so high on that tree he would have killed me."

Erik shook his head slightly, then turned to Christine: "Please, my darling, let's try it again. I know you like it! Maybe I can even teach you to be a little bid bad. Just a little bit, just enough to help you with your role of course!" She wasn't sure what he was talking about, but she was too tired to give it much thought. She just wanted to go to sleep and have the next lesson a few days later.

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 _I hope you still like my story. Thanks for reading and please review._

 _Next chapter will be up at Friday._


	55. Chapter 55

_**Madness and Hope**_

Their music lessons became more and more strange. Erik had decided it was not necessary to teach her how to sing - her technique as perfect - right now it was necessary to teach her to enjoy herself. She had always been a good girl, a decent, modest girl - and now Erik had to teach her how to be a little bit bad and enjoy that. He surely would not teach her violence - never - but maybe she could enjoy playing a little prank on someone? Nothing serious, only harmless little pranks.

Erik's first idea was to show her some of his secret passages through the opera, so they could eavesdrop together. At first Christine refused, she was a good girl and Erik would not change that. But then her curiosity won and she went with him. Just to see how he had done his tricks as the Phantom, nothing more.

She was baffled to how many of the dressing rooms and store rooms and offices Erik had had access to. He could see or hear nearly everything in the opera if he was at the right time in the right place. "Even women's dressing rooms!" Christine scolded him.  
Erik shrugged and grinned sheepishly: "I'm a man after all..." he tried to make excuses, "But I did nothing bad after I fell in love with you. I... I have been faithful to you in every possible way."  
Christine decided it would be no good idea to have a quarrel in one of these horribly small secret passageways, so she dismissed it for the moment.

"Let's create a little mischief," Erik playfully suggested, "I just change the perfume bottles of two of the ballet girls."  
"No, Erik, you won't! You don't want to go back to your old ways. I know it would be fun but I won't have it."  
Erik grunted and took her to the manager's office. They were not there.  
"Okay, a nice little prank. I'll unlock their safe and then we watch them quarreling who left it open."  
"No, you won't! That's not harmless they could be really angry at each other," Christine was annoyed. Erik was like a mischievous boy right now. And he wanted her to play with him and enjoy it when she felt it was utterly wrong what he suggested. "We better try something else. I don't think I can enjoy anything that harms someone."

Erik gave up. This would get them nowhere. Christine needed to relax, to have fun, and everything he suggested was something she called "not right". She was a shining example of virtue and he gave up trying to get her to have some fun in annoying someone.

"Okay, let's try something else - have you ever played in the mud? Getting yourself dirty? As a child perhaps?" he suggested.  
"No, certainly not. I was a good girl and would never ruin my dress," Christine answered.  
Erik rolled his eyes. "My god, do you know how to play at all? Did you ever have FUN?" He could not believe it was him who had more idea what fun was than she did. "Just being utterly childish and have fun?"  
"O yes, I did play many games with my father and with Raoul."  
Erik looked at her as if she had punched him to the gut. That name again! But he had asked her about her childhood and maybe he should simply accept that Raoul was part of her past. And maybe even her future when she would be a widow. Erik suddenly lost all interest in being playful, he just wanted to hide under his bed sheets and cry. Christine noticed the tears in his eyes.  
"I'm sorry, Erik, I did not mean to hurt you," she said gently.  
"I know," he whispered, "Maybe I'm just oversensitive."

Christine felt the need to comfort him somehow. "Maybe... maybe we can just play smugglers? Not really, we just take something that belongs to us and pretend to be smuggling something that is forbidden to carry around?" She suggested.  
Erik raised his eyebrows beneath his mask. He did not understand what fun that would be. Pretending to steal and pretending some innocent thing to be forbidden - what fun would that be? Stealing chocolates - that would be fun. Annoying someone - that would be fun. Borrowing a horse from the opera's stables would be fun. Bloody hell, even getting himself dirty would be fun! But Christine obviously had a completely different idea what fun might be.

"If you do not like to play my games, maybe you tell me something you think fun!" Erik said sulky.  
Now it was Christine's turn to roll her eyes. Erik could really be childish and right now he reminded her of a three year old child - maybe even younger. "Card tricks. Show me some of your card tricks," she suggested.

"Well... yes, that might be fun. I teach you how to be a cardsharper," Erik answered, "Let's go."

They spend the whole evening at home with cards, different card decks, different card tricks. Erik taught her some slight of hand tricks with the cards - one of his favorites was a trick where he could shuffle the cards in a way he knew perfectly well the order of them. Christine was quite good in that trick, despite her small hands hand rather short fingers.

"Now, another trick. You see these cards? An old card deck, isn't it? Now have a closer look at it!"  
Christine looked at the cards but could not find anything suspicious. They were simply old and worn.  
"Look at the dirt at the edges," Erik smirked. When Christine still did not find anything suspicious he told her: "This deck is new. I just made it look used, so no one would be suspicious of the dirt and the stains. I marked every card like that. So if we would play with this deck, I would know which cards you had. I just have to memorize the marks."  
"Remember me to never play cards with you," Christine sighed, but then her face lightened up: "I could use that trick on stage - when Carmen does cartomancy I really could make the Death appear on top."  
"Yes, that's a great idea!" Erik jumped on her idea, "I think the stage director will be spooked if you manage to really turn up the right cards every time! Great! You are wonderful!"  
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 _They had a very different childhood - Christine a good girl with a protected childhood, Erik the rogue. Of course they have a very different view of what 'having fun' is. Erik wants her to be a little bit bad and she simply does not want it - she just sees how much Erik enjoys creating mischief and does not like it._

 _By the way - the card tricks are both real tricks and easy to learn. ;-)_

 _Next chapter will be up at Monday._


	56. Chapter 56

**Madness and Hope**

It was only three days before the opening night of Carmen when Erik and Christine still worked to prepare her for that role. Christine felt a little bit more comfortable, she even managed to dance a little bit on stage, but she was still far from the high standard of her other performances.

They worked until late in the night. Both of them were quite frustrated and this time Christine was even a bit tipsy. Erik had bought honey wine and given her some to ease her, he himself had not dared to drink anything, he needed to be in control. "Now, try it again. Try to pretend I'm Jose and you want to seduce me and I'm resisting. You tried everything and I'm still resisting and now you mock me, trying to provoke me enough to confess my love and devotion."  
Christine stood there, completely caught off guard. She had absolutely no idea how do be seductive. She stood there at the piano, looking at him with big eyes like a confused girl. That wouldn't do.

"Well, Ruby Danseuse would have me in her bed in at the longest sixty seconds if she tried," Erik teased. 'Not that she ever would try...' he added sadly in his mind.  
"Sixty seconds? You dirty scoundrel!" Christine yelled at him furiously.  
Erik started to enjoy it - of course he would never do it, but he knew that Christine could get really angry and then she might lose her severe self-control. That was exactly what she needed right now.

He took his violin and started playing for her - tickling her with his music again, but then he changed the tune to a much more seductive melody. He saw her blush, opening her lips a bit, breathing harder. Erik had to stop before this would get out of control. 'Think of icy water in the underground lake!' he told himself silently and took a deep breath.

"I guess we might try the " _Je vais danser en votre honneur_ " again. Remember - you are trying to get me and I am the one refusing you," Erik suggested.  
"Well, I simply can't picture YOU as the honorable dutiful Jose," Christine giggled, her tipsiness was affecting her badly.  
"And I can't picture you as Carmen," Erik retorted, "But we have to try, don't we? Now - again!"  
He sat at the piano to accompany them on the piano.

 _CARMEN_  
 _Je vais danser en votre honneur,_  
 _et vous verrez, seigneur,_  
 _comment je sais moi-même accompagner ma danse._  
 _Mettez-vous là, Don José. Je commence!_  
 _La la la la !_

 _JOSÉ_  
 _Attends un peu, Carmen._  
 _Rien qu'un moment, arrête._

 _CARMEN_  
 _Et pourquoi, s'il te plaît?_

 _JOSE_  
 _Il me semble, là-bas -_  
 _Oui, ce sont nos clairons_  
 _Qui sonnent la retraite;_  
 _Ne les entends-tu pas?_

 _CARMEN_  
 _Bravo! Bravo! J'avais beau faire;_  
 _Il est mélancolique de danser sans orchestre_  
 _Et vive la musique qui nous tombe du ciel!_

 _JOSÉ_  
 _Tu ne m'as pas compris, Carmen_  
 _C'est la retraite. Il faut que moi_  
 _Je rentre au quartier pour l'appel._

 _CARMEN_  
 _Au quartier! Pour l'appel!_  
 _Ah! J'étais vraiment trop bête!_  
 _Je me mettais en quatre et je faisais des frais._  
 _Oui, je faisais des frais,_  
 _pour amuser monsieur!_  
 _Je chantais! Je dansais! Je crois, Dieu me pardonne,_  
 _qu'un peu plus, je l'aimais!_  
 _Taratata! C'est le clairon qui sonne!_  
 _Taratata! Il part! Il est parti!_  
 _Va-t-en donc, canari!_  
 _Tiens! prends ton shako,_  
 _Son sabre, ta giberne,_  
 _et va-t-en, mon garçon; va-t-en!_  
 _retourne à ta caserne!_

 _JOSÉ_  
 _C'est mal à toi, Carmen, de te moquer de moi!_  
 _Je souffre de partir, car jamais,_  
 _jamais femme avant toi_  
 _aussi profondément n'avait troublé mon âme!_

 _CARMEN_  
 _Taratata, mon Dieu! c'est la retraite!_  
 _Tarataata, je vais être en retard!_  
 _O mon Dieu! O mon Dieu! c'est la retraite!_  
 _Je fais être en retard! Il perd la tête, il court!_

 _Et voilà son amour!_

It would be Erik's time to reply now with " _Ainsi, tu ne crois pas à mon amour!_ " but he did not. He could not. He had stopped playing when Christine was somewhere along the line " _Au quartier! Pour l'appel_!" for his hands were shaking too much to hit the right piano keys. And now his voice failed him - he could not sing. Christine was angry and half-drunk and she was - wonderful. She was doing so well, Erik could not believe it. Was this really his Christine? Right now he might actually deceive himself into believing she would desire him.

He got up from the piano stool somewhat clumsy in his movements and turned his back to her. "I need a very, very, VERY cold bath and I need it right now!" he gasped.

Christine blushed. Now she understood the meaning of Erik's fondness for taking a cold bath - he was protecting her from his needs. "Erik," she heard her shaky voice whisper and he stopped dead in his tracks. "We are married." Did she really say that? What possessed her to act like that? Neither of them could believe it in that moment.

Erik was the one to react first - he just swept her up in his arms and carried her to her bedroom, then he carefully extinguished all lights.

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 _I'm sorry, I do not speak French so there might be misspellings in the lyrics from Carmen - i just copied them without knowing the language._

 _Next chapter will be up soon. Thank you for reading and please review!_


	57. Chapter 57

**Madness and Hope**

Erik could not believe this had actually happened. He was lying in bed with his wife, she was asleep in his arms. He was still a bit breathless and his capacity for logic had been lost somewhere. Well, let it stay lost. He would not need it, at least not now. All he needed now was this wonderful feeling - the feeling of love and being loved. It was just wonderful, it was paradise.

Christine woke in the morning, she was alone as usual. Erik must have gone to work already. She found her breakfast on the night table and wondered how considerate Erik was, every morning he would leave her breakfast at her night table. Sometimes he was just wonderful. She found a turkish coffee and a cake he had called "baklava". Baklava for breakfast? Why not? She had not known it before but she loved it. Last night had not been bad - she had been rather surprised just how gentle Erik could be when he wanted to. She had been afraid he might be violent and selfish but he wasn't, at least not last night. She still could not quite understand what the elder women in ballet and chorus found so great in certain activities but she was assured that it was not as bad as she had feared it to be. It was not bad at all and so there was no reason to deny Erik his rights as a husband. But not bad was not good either.

Erik definitely had problems concentrating on his work that day. He managed to do some really easy tasks so no one could accuse him of doing nothing but his mind certainly was somewhere else - he could not understand what had happened the night before. He had lost control, had completely lost any control and Christine had not tried to resist him and he had not hurt her. Not that he ever wanted to hurt her but he had always been afraid he would force himself on her if he lost control. He had never dared to dream she would willingly accept her wifely duties. It was something he could not understand - how was she able to endure his touch? Not only his touch, his kisses and even more? How could Christine - his innocent darling Christine - accept him, body and soul, when both were hideously deformed so he himself was not able to stand his reflection in a mirror? A mirror could not reach out for him but he was sure that if it could he would kill his reflection because he would never endure its touch. So - how could she? And how could he ever make amends for her ordeal? What could he do to make her happy because he wanted her to be happy but he simply had no idea at all.

At the premiere of Carmen the Daroga sat in "his" box five, waiting for Erik. Erik did not show up until only minutes before Christine's first appearance as Carmen. The Persian could not help noticing that Erik was extremely nervous. He could not remember seeing his friend that agitated - not even when Erik was facing deadly peril. Erik had to take off his mask, he was sweating and needed to wipe his face with his handkerchief. Ducking down in the rear of the box he would never be seen by anyone, but the Persian could tell that his friend was close to freaking out.

Erik took his seat hidden behind the curtain of the box, so he would not be seen by anyone in the Opera except the Daroga. "God, I can't believe how I can stay calm when she suffers stage fright. She had a really bad fit today - I was with her in her dressing room, I pretended to be her bastion of calm, telling her everything would be fine and I knew she is going to be perfect," the masked man whined.  
"You do not look calm now," the Daroga dryly observed.  
"Bloody hell, no! Christine has never done well in rehearsals - Carmen simply is no role for her. She has done well only once and that was with me singing Jose - god, this tenor is horrible! He's old and weak, his voice exhausted. This whole opera is going to be a fiasco!" Erik lamented.

The Daroga looked at the masked man worriedly. Erik hat three sore spots at his head - he had been scratching himself in his nervousness again. Right now the masked man was biting his fingernails, one finger already bleeding. "You are not going to be sick, are you?" the Persian asked.

Erik smirked: "Already done. I don't think there's anything left in my stomach I could throw up."

The Persian wondered if Erik had always been that nervous when Christine was singing. Maybe - at least he had never seen Erik in a situation like this. He had overheard him reassure Christine, calming her, bolstering her up.

When Christine had her appearance, she was walking and singing like an automaton - she hit all the notes but it was obvious that something was wrong with her. She did not reach her own standard. Erik hid his masked face in his hands. "God, no! She's doing it AGAIN! O God, please, please, please, please!" he whispered desperately. After the first act of the opera Erik got up, crawled into the column to get to Christine through his secret passageways. He needed to comfort her and help her or she would not get any better that evening - and the house was full with cultural journalists. The Persian wondered how Erik could help her if he looked as if he needed help himself.

At the beginning of the second act Erik reappeared, looking a little bit better. "What happened?" the Persian inquired.  
Erik shrugged. "I tried my best. Now it is up to her, I cannot do anything more." And he started biting his nails again.

Christine appeared on stage - and she seemed to be changed. She moved not like an automaton, she moved like a dancer, not a good dancer that is, but a dancer. Erik released the breath he had been holding until his lungs hurt.

And then she sang. She was good. A little bit too decent for Carmen but she was good.

"Thank God!" Erik sighed, "She got over it!"  
"What did you do in the few minutes before the second act?" the Persian asked. He could not understand how Erik - Erik of all people, who was a nervous wreck himself - could help anyone calm down.

Erik chuckled: "I tickled her."  
The Persian did not answer to that. Whatever Erik had done, it worked and there was nothing more to ask - it was obvious that Erik had not harmed or threatened her in any way.  
Christine became better and better the more she relaxed and gained self-confidence. Erik leaned back in his seat, he was sure she would do fine.

The finale was awesome. Jose confronts Carmen who is now with Escamillo - she refuses and mocks him and he stabs her. Erik had sung this scene with Christine often and Christine had to stand up to Erik's version of Jose being mad with murderous jealousy. The tenor on stage was far from that. It ended up looking as if Carmen was attacking and Jose finally stabbed her in pure self-defense.

Erik chuckled. "That's my darling!" he exclaimed proudly and grinned at his friend, "There. As I told you - no need to be nervous, everything's fine, I knew from the beginning she would do well." The Daroga raised one eyebrow. If Erik had been that sure everything was fine - who had been that nervous wreck sitting in the rear of his box?

Erik slipped away through his secret passageway while the audience called Christine before the curtain again and again.  
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 _Erik seems to be very calm and confident before Christine is singing. But I think he might be rather nervous himself for there is nothing he can do if anything goes wrong - it is out of his control. He just can't afford to show his weakness. Thanks for reading and please review!_


	58. Chapter 58

_**Madness and Hope**_

Christine barely made it to her dressing room, there were so many suitors who wanted to tell her just how brilliant she was. Christine smiled but told everyone she was tired and needed a little time to recover.

When she entered her dressing room, it was full of flowers, she needed someone to help her to clear a little space so she could change to her normal clothing. "Erik, are you there?" she called softly.

The next moment Erik stood before her, he bowed deeply to her and took her. "You have been wonderful! I told you, didn't I? Who if not I would know an angel of music if he hears one? You are perfect!" he praised her.  
"I was far from perfect, but thank you," she answered and gave him a happy smile. He so loved it when she smiled at him, she was a radiant beauty. "Thank you for trusting me. I think after those rehearsals you were the only one in the world to trust in me."  
Erik grinned and bowed again deeply. Then he started to clear some space for her from the many flowers. He tossed them aside carelessly.  
"Please leave me, I need to change my clothes. Wait for me at the small entrance, will you?" Christine asked and Erik left as she had told him to do. She still did not want him to see her not properly dressed and he understood her wish too well. Even after what they had done a few nights ago they were still shy and extremely uptight.

On their way home both were in playful mood and Erik started singing - it was nothing special, a very simple tune, a drinking song.  
"Erik, please! People might hear us!" Christine scolded him giggling.  
"Let them - I wear a mask, who is to know who I am?" he reached to his pocket and handed Christine another mask. His was fawn, hers was delicate pink, "Put it on. No one will know us and we can behave as badly as we like to!"  
Christine slipped the mask on, it fitted her perfectly. Then they sang together that drinking song.

"Hey - people want to sleep here! Be quiet!" someone yelled from a window at the second floor of a house.  
"Hey - someone wants to sing here!" Erik retorted and Christine chuckled. This was funny. She could only hope no one would recognize them.

They went a few blocks in silence, then Erik started another drinking song. He sang quite loudly and danced around Christine - if she had not known better she would have thought him stinking drunk. His graceful movement showed her that he was certainly not drunk, he just liked to act that part now.

Another window flew open and someone threw an empty bottle - it landed meters away from Erik. In a matter of moments Erik saw which window had been opened in the first floor and started climbing up the rain water downpipe. "Come back!" Christine cried but he did not heed her. He was up next to the window within mere seconds much to the dismay of the rooms occupant.  
"Don't ever throw something again," Erik hissed, "You might have hurt someone - and then I would be forced to hurt you - we don't want that, do we? Have a good night, Monsieur, Madame!" He tipped his hat and jumped down to the street much like a giant cat.

"That was not nice!" Christine scolded him, but she could not help grinning. It had been too funny.  
"Yes, Erik is a naughty boy," Erik retorted playfully and she was sure he was sticking out his tongue behind his full face mask, "and Christine is a mannerly girl from a very decent family. Want to come out and play with the guttersnipe?"

Christine turned on her heel, wrinkled her nose and went away, but she made sure the dark shape that was Erik followed her closely. "No, I only want to play with nice boys."  
"Then Erik will be a very nice boy," Erik promised, "a very nice boy indeed." He chuckled.  
"Then Christine will play with him," she answered. Sometimes Erik could be so utterly childish, she simply could not be angry at him for that.

When they came home the first thing Christine saw was a bottle of champagne and two glasses on the table. In one of the glasses was a bracelet. She took it in her hands, it was a small gold bracelet, plain but beautiful. "O Erik, you were that sure that I would succeed tonight?" she asked.

"Of course!" Erik answered. It was not the truth. He had been quite nervous but he was determined never to tell her. She needed him to reassure her of her talent and ability - she had more than enough self-doubts so she needed him to be the one who would never doubt her. Never. Whatever happened, he would encourage her no matter what. He wanted to be strong and protecting, and it felt so good when she smiled at him.

"Come on, let's celebrate! You are to be the new prima donna assoluta!" Erik exclaimed as he filled their glasses.  
"How do you know?" Christine asked.  
"Eavesdropping. Firmin told the conductor after the performance and Moncharmin did not object. They wanted to keep it secret and tell you in three days before you sing Marguerite - but I want you to know by now that you won back your rightful place at the opera. And this time without any intervening from me - You did it, you alone!"  
"Not alone. Without your help I would never be that."  
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 _Thanks for reading! I appreciate every review!  
Next chapter will be up tomorrow or at least Friday._


	59. Chapter 59

**Madness and Hope**

The next day Raoul de Chagny knocked at Christine's door. She opened, bewildered who might visit her. "Raoul! How did you...?" she asked.  
"I asked the managers of the opera. They have your address," Raoul answered, "But first I want to say hello. May I come in, please?"  
"O, yes, of course. I'm sorry, I did not expect any visitors," Christine gestured for him to come into the living room.

Raoul looked at the room. It was properly furnished, but it looked more like a music room than a living room. It was tidy and neat.  
"Erik is not at home?" Raoul asked.  
"No, he's at work," Christine answered and went to the kitchen, "May I offer something? Tea, coffee? I hope you like tea for my coffee is horrible."  
"Tea would be nice, thank you."

Raoul sat down at the couch as Christine placed the teapot and two cups on the coffee table.  
"That's a nice surprise that you visit me," Christine said and smiled at him.  
"I saw you at the opera yesterday. You were... breathtaking."  
"Thank you," she answered, smiling, "But I guess that you did not come here just to compliment me?"  
Raoul sighed. "You are right. I am still worried for you, I needed to know you are well."  
"O yes, I am. Erik cares well for me," she gestured to the room, "He provides everything I need."  
"Does he... hurt you?" Raoul asked. He feared her answer.  
"No, he does not. Raoul, Erik changed. There has been a moment when I thought he might hit me but he did not - he left and went for a walk instead, coming home late. If he runs away every time he's aggressive I'm safe," she answered.  
"Yes... IF"  
"O Raoul, please don't push me. I won't tell you that I am unhappy and want to get a divorce. Please accept that I am married to Erik now."

"I do accept, but I'm your childhood friend, am I not? I want to be your friend, if I can be nothing else for now."

"Of course, I'd love that!" Christine exclaimed happily.

Raoul sighed in relief. She still loved him and he hoped he would be able to establish a friendship with her again - a friendship, solid enough he would be able to break her out of whatever spell she was under. But he had to be careful.

"You said, Erik was at work? Do you expect him back for lunch?" Raoul asked.  
"No, he never comes home before four o'clock. Today I don't have a rehearsal or anything - I just planned to relax an recover from yesterday. You have no idea how nervous I was! I had never sang Carmen like that and except Erik no one would believe I could. It seems all of us were wrong and he was right," Christine told him.  
"I can't imagine Erik to have a normal job," Raoul said. He rather assumed Erik was up to something and just pretended to go to work.  
"But he does! He works at the building authority now," Christine answered. Something in her voice told Raoul that Christine was proud of Erik.

"You're kidding!" Raoul exclaimed, "They made ERIK an official building inspector? Erik, of all people? I think I should prepare to emigrate in time..."  
"As far as I know he's doing quite well... he had that job for some month and they did not dismiss him," Christine answered, "But I don't want to talk about Erik. Please tell me, Raoul, how are you? What have you been doing the last months?"

Raoul answered that he still struggled to be the new head of the family and take care of all their business enterprises. He still did not know all the estates but at least he knew that he had loyal stewards who took care so he had time to learn. He missed his brother so much.

"I'm so sorry," Christine said.  
"It's not your fault," Raoul said, "But I still want to see justice done. Justice - not murder. And Erik seemed to have beaten me in that game, I will never be able to prove that he is the murderer. I hate to admit it, right now all I can do is waiting for Erik to make a mistake. But with you backing him up I'm not sure if that is going to happen soon."

Christine was taken aback. "But... I never... Raoul, do you think I... I am not your enemy! And I would never be an accomplice to murder!"  
"No, of course not! Christine, you are his wife and I understand that you can't go to the police and testify against him. I just... Christine, as much as I love you I hate him. I can never forgive him. But Christine - I want to see you again. Regularly. I know that there is gossip about me being your lover but... if you don't want to invite me here, you can come to me or we can meet somewhere else. I'm just worried about you!"  
"O Raoul. I want to meet you but not behind Erik's back. I will tell him that we met and I want to see you again."  
"No, don't tell him! He'll kill you!" Raoul cried out.  
"He'll do no such thing," Christine said, "He won't harm one hair on my head. Today I'll tell him and I let you know when and where we can meet again. Okay?"  
"I have no choice - but if I do not get a message from you by tomorrow evening telling me that you are well, I call the police and tell them he killed you."

Their friendship wasn't as easy as it had been when they were children. Right now there was a dark shadow and that dark shadow had a certain name.

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 _Did you think Raoul would ever give up on her? Well, no, he is as determined as Erik to get Christine._


	60. Chapter 60

**Madness and Hope**

When Erik returned home he found Christine nervous and a bit scared.  
"Darling, what happened?" he asked worriedly.  
"Erik, please sit down and promise me you won't get angry and won't hurt me," she asked, shivering.  
Erik sat down, afraid of what Christine was going to tell him. It must be something bad or she would not be that afraid of him getting mad.

"Erik, today came an unexpected visitor," Christine began.  
"O no, your little Comte found out where we live!" Erik shouted, "What did he want?"  
Christine flinched. "Please don't be angry - we had tea and we talked."

"WHAT? You invited him right in? Are you mad? You... you bloody bitch how could you betray me like that?" Erik roared, he was on his feet immediately, grabbed her roughly at her arms and pushed her against a wall. "How could you cheat on me so soon after...? How often? Tell me - did you only allow me to your bed because you had been with him? Tell me how often did you betray me?"  
"I did not! Never! Not once! Erik, I am faithful to you! Erik, for God's sake, listen to me! I never betrayed you!" Christine screamed in terror as Erik held her in an iron grip of his strong hands, towering over her.  
"And you did it where? Here, in the living room? Your bed? Tell me - where? How often?"  
"Never! Erik, I did not!"

Erik let go of her arms and took a step back. "At least I expected you to have the decency to tell me," he snarled at her, then suddenly raised his left hand to slap her: "At least have the decency to let God out of your cheat, you bloody whore!"

"Erik! I did nothing!" Christine screamed and held up her arms to protect herself from the blow that never came. When she dared to open her eyes again, Erik was standing a few feet away from her, staring at his hands.

"I didn't mean to..." Erik stammered, suddenly awaking from his fury, "Did I... did I hurt you? I'm sorry, I..." He ran his hands over his face, taking off his false nose in the process without noticing. Then he took a step back and slumped on the couch, his face in his hands.

Christine took a deep breath, picked up the nose and put it on the piano. She did not want anyone of them to ruin it by accident. "Erik... you frightened me terribly! I thought you were going to beat me to pulp..." she sobbed.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," Erik whispered. Then he looked up at her. "Please - let me see your arms, your head... did I hurt you badly?"

Christine did not dare refuse as he pulled up her sleeves. "These are going to be bruises," he said suddenly calm and detached like a doctor examining a patient, then he gently touched her head: "I'm sorry, this is a bruise too. Do you feel sick? Dizzy? Can you see clearly?"

Christine was too confused to answer. Erik made her lay down on the couch gently, then sat down beside her.  
"I'm sorry. I will not be angry again, I promise. Now, please tell me - he came here, you had tea. Did... did anything else happen?"  
"We just talked," Christine said through chattering teeth.  
"Okay, you just talked. I believe you. I'm sorry."

"Do you really believe me now?" Christine asked, still shivering in her frear.  
"Um... no. But I try to do so. God, I thought it would be over once we were married! I'm a childish fool, am I not? Shhhh, my darling, it's over now, the monster has gone away, there's no need to be frightened..."

Christine threw herself into his arms, not noticing the absurdity of this situation - Erik who had hurt and threatened her was now comforting her as best as he could manage.

"You want to know the worst?" she mumbled against his breast.  
"Tell me, darling. I swear I will not be angry again," he whispered, hoping he would be able to keep his promise.  
"Raoul warned me," Christine sobbed, "He warned me you were going to hurt me if you knew he had been visiting. And I told him that he was wrong, you wouldn't."  
Erik felt an terrible pain in his chest. He had been good for a year - no a bit more than half a year to be true - and now he had destroyed her trust in him again. "I'm so sorry, Christine, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to... God, my temper is really horrible. Right now I wonder if they were right... I'm a wild beast and the only thing I understand is the whip."

Christine looked up at him: "No, you are no beast. But you scared me - never do that again, Erik! Swear to me!"  
Erik felt his throat tightening, he could not speak. He swallowed hard to get rid of the lump in his throat. Could he promise not to hurt her when he had no idea if he would be able to keep his promise? "I swear I'll do my best to protect you. If necessary I protect you from myself too." His voice was a hoarse whisper.

"Please forgive me", he whispered into her hair, as she still rested her cheek against his breast. "Please forgive me."  
"I want to meet Raoul again," she said, "Raoul is worried about me and wants to see me regularly. I will not do it behind your back but right now I feel safer if I can see him..." She trailed off, not daring to speak of the fear Erik had caused in her.  
"Yes, everything you want," Erik answered softly, "I am jealous, terribly jealous but... You are right. He is your friend after all and if you promise to me that you will treat him as your brother and nothing more I accept that." Right now he was willing to give her anything just to erase that frightened look in her eyes, even allowing her to meet that horrible Raoul again.  
"I told you I'm faithful," Christine answered.

It was an awkward situation for both of them. Christine had seen a terrible reminder to Erik's violent behaviour, his bad temper bordering on madness. His fit of rage had been short - but she was not sure he would be able to control himself and not hurt her again. He had not hit her, but he had grabbed her fiercely and pushed her against the wall - that was painful and frightening enough.

Erik felt horrible. He considered this as a mere relapse but he would need to take precautions so it won't happen again. But what could he do? Give her a pistol, teach her to shoot? Teach her to fight, maybe the Punjab Lasso? A woman can wield it, it does not require much strength, it's more about the right technique. It could not be something he could willingly influence because he did not trust himself any more.

"I had planned to take you out to a restaurant today," Erik said softly, "But I understand if you don't want to go now."  
"No, no I would love it!" Christine said, "I'd really love to go out with you. I just... I change my dress and put on a little make-up."  
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 _A marriage is no cure for a violent temper and jealousy._

 _Next chapter will be up on Monday!_


	61. Chapter 61

**Madness and Hope**

Going out with Erik - who was wearing his false nose - was not easy now. Erik tried to be as amiable as he could be but after his temper tantrum she was afraid of him. Not now, right now he was not only perfectly calm but trying to make amends and she knew she could ask anything of him right now, he would grant her everything. But what if it happened again in the future?

Erik had picked a luxury restaurant, obviously he had planned that evening for weeks. Their first problem was to get inside - the chief waiter saw Erik, who still looked hideous even with his false nose and tried to send them away, telling them all tables had been reserved. "That's fine, because I have one reserved," Erik commented dryly and the chief waiter made a mental note to tell the other waiters to better look at the customers before giving them a reservation. This man did certainly not look like anyone the luxury restaurant wanted as their customer. Before the head waiter could say anything, Erik snatched the book from him and looked for his name, then pointed it out to the man: "Here - Davisseau, the private room."

Now the waiter had no option but to show them the private room. It was not lost on Christine how the other guests stared at them as Erik passed them. Their disgusted stares, the whispers, it was humiliating and she wondered how Erik managed to pretend he did not see or hear anything, but she could see the shame in his eyes. Erik was ashamed of his looks and hated the humiliation of the stares and the whispers behind his back - but he knew there was nothing he could do about it. Suddenly he looked so weary. Christine took his arm, right now she felt the need to protect him.

Erik stopped and stared at her. He could not believe Christine was taking his arm in public, showing everyone - and many of the people there knew her for Christine was already a famous singer - that they belonged together. And this after he had hurt and frightened her only an hour ago. Erik was speechless with shame. How could she be so forgiving, so gentle?

Christine was happy with the private room. They were at a restaurant - but they had some privacy. The restaurant was very good and Christine was able to enjoy her meal but she noticed Erik could barely eat anything at all. He tried his best to entertain her, right now he was the perfect gentleman. She was surprised herself just how much she was able to enjoy their little rendezvous.

On their way home they saw a carriage - the Comte de Chagny! Erik flinched and retreated into the shadows of a sidestreet. Christine refused to hide, she didn't even pretend to not noticing the carriage, she stopped and waited if Raoul would see her. He did, the carriage came to halt and he got off.

"Christine, how nice to meet you!" Raoul exclaimed happily and kissed her hand.  
"Yes, a very nice surprise," Christine answered and looked over her shoulder to where she knew Erik was hiding, "Erik, please don't hide."  
Erik joined them, he was tense and ready for a fight. He gave a stiff bow and tipped his hat. "Monsieur," he said formally.  
Raoul barely nodded, then turned to Christine: "How are you?"  
The three of them knew it wasn't just a polite question. He wanted to know if Erik had harmed her.  
"I'm fine, thank you," Christine answered and Erik cringed. Raoul did not miss this.  
"What's wrong?" the Comte asked and noticed that Erik could not contain his nervousness - he started to bite his nails.

Christine sighed: "Erik was a bit... jealous as I told him of your visit. But we talked about it and now he trusts me, isn't it?"  
"You don't need to lie on my behalf," Erik snapped at her, "I do trust YOU but certainly not HIM. Monsieur, as you are a dear friend of my wife you are always welcome to our home, but I want to know when you will be visiting her in time, there are more than enough rumors and we don't want to damage her reputation further, do we? I think we might be hiring a maid, then there would be a chaperone..."  
"You are inviting me?" Raoul asked. This was something he had not expected.  
"Not if I could help it. But right now I can't deny MY WIFE any of her wishes," Erik spat, specially pronouncing the words 'my wife' as if these were bullets to fire in the Comte's face.

"What has he done to you?" Raoul asked. He was absolutely sure Erik must have done something terrible.  
Christine blushed and looked away.  
"You might as well tell him," Erik sighed, "Better you tell him than he makes something up."  
"What have you done to her?" Raoul asked threatening, approaching Erik.  
"I hit her," Erik confessed, his head lowered in shame.  
"No, you didn't," Christine defended him, "He pushed me against the wall and yelled at me - but he stopped himself and did not hit me."  
"You remember what I said?" Raoul asked Erik, barely containing his rage, "I told you I would make you pay if you ever make her cry!"  
Erik clenched his fists, in his left hand the lasso, should the need arise to defend himself. Raoul stood there like a boxer ready for a fight.  
"Stop that! Both of you! I certainly do not need you two fighting here on the sidewalk! Erik - spare me your self-loathing, just behave in the future! Raoul - he just gave his permission that you may visit me. What husband gives his permission to his rival to visit his wife? I think that rather generous of Erik. So, that settled - Erik, I want you to take me home, I'm tired!"

Erik and Raoul both stared at Christine. They had not expected a reaction like that and right now neither knew how to answer to her. Erik had the easier part - he could simply do what she had told him.

When they were home Erik asked shyly: "What I did is unpardonable. I know I'm asking too much of you but... could you possibly forgive me nonetheless? I promise I will do anything I can do to prevent myself from hurting you again, anything! Even if I..." he swallowed hard and nearly choked on his next words: "if I have to agree to a divorce."

Christine sat down and looked at him. Erik fell to his knees before her, his head lowered, his shoulders slumped.  
"I don't want a divorce," Christine said, "Not yet. But if something like this ever happens again, I'll go to the court and ask for divorce and then I expect you to confess whatever you will need to confess then."

Erik nodded in defeat. "I promise. Thank you." He was deeply ashamed and frightened by his lack of control. He needed to do something, but what? If there was any medical treatment for a bad temper he would gladly accept anything but as far as he knew there was none. His only chance was to keep that monster inside his soul caged and not allow it to escape again.  
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	62. Chapter 62

**Madness and Hope**

The next day Erik did not went home after work, he went to the Persian who was surprised by his visit, but even more when he saw how weary his friend looked.  
"What happened?" the Daroga asked worriedly.  
Erik slumped into a chair and sighed: "I hit my wife. I... I'm so ashamed, I barely dare go home to her now... I... need help. Tell me how NOT to hit my wife?"

"You did WHAT?" the Daroga cried out. He knew Erik had always despised Persian customs such as the right of husbands to use corporal punishment if their wives misbehaved. And now Erik confessed he had done it himself. But then - he knew Erik's bad temper and it wasn't such a surprise.  
Erik grimaced as he answered: "I didn't know you had problems with your hearing. I'm not going to repeat myself."

"Erik, you really hit her? Why?"  
"She had tea with Raoul," Erik answered dryly, "I did not believe her then and... I grabbed her and pushed her against the wall, I was about to hit her when I... managed to control myself again. She... she is willing to give me one more chance - I have no idea how many 'last chances' I already had - but she made perfectly clear that she will ask for divorce if I hurt her again. I need your help - do you have any idea how I could control my temper?"

"Not really," the Daroga answered, "I can only advise you to go away if you are angry and come back when you are calm enough to face her."  
"So your advice is that I try to outrun my temper?" Erik moaned "Don't you have any idea that does not include me being able to control my rage?"  
"No I don't! Erik, it is long overdue that you learn that no one but YOU YOURSELF is responsible for your deeds. Not me, not her and certainly no one else. It's your responsibility and your's alone!" The Daroga took a deep breath before he added: "I wanted to tell you that for decades."

Erik nodded. "I can only try but right now I do not really trust myself. Thank you anyway." He got up and headed towards the door. The Persian did not tell him what he was really thinking - he knew Erik too well and he was surprised just how long Erik had managed to control himself.

When Erik came home, Christine told him happily that she had hired a maid. An elderly woman, a widow with grown-up children who was absolutely trustworthy. She had been a servant to Raoul before but she was too old to serve in a large household like the Comte's. She would love to have a job were she would only have to work before noon. "She's perfect!" Christine exclaimed, "She will come in the morning after you left leave before you come home."

"Yes, perfect," Erik answered but he was not happy with Christine's choice. Surely this woman was to spy on them and tell everything to Raoul. But he had to swallow his pride right now because he knew that it was another measure to keep Christine safe from himself. "You think we can afford her wage?"  
Christine answered happily: "Yes, of course! Erik, you do not need to pay everything. I'm the lady of the household, am I not? I'll pay her."  
"No! I said, I..." Erik objected.  
"Erik, stop that. I already earn more than you do and I will even earn more when I'm the primadonna again. There's no need for you to..."  
"But I want to!" Erik interrupted her, "I want to provide everything for you so you do not have to worry about anything at all. I... I really do my best but... It is a miracle I got that job, I'm afraid I won't get a better one." He was ashamed that he was not able to provide everything they needed, he felt inept and hated himself for his weakness. What man needs the help of his wife to pay for everything his family needs? This was utterly humiliating.

"I don't want you to get another job, I want you to control your temper," Christine answered seriously.

"I do my best," he promised, hoping that it would be enough.  
 _XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX_

 _Erik has to face the fact that a normal life with a wife isn't as easy and happy as he had imagined it. He faces normal problems now and is quite unprepared for them._

 _A short chapter today - next chapter will be up tomorrow! Please review!_


	63. Chapter 63

**Madness and Hope**

When Christine came to the opera she was told to go to the manager's office. She did so, knowing exactly what was going to happen but she did not want to spoil the fun and pretended to know nothing.

"Ah, Madame, how nice to meet you," Monacharmin greeted her happily, "Marvelous! Your performance of Carmen - it was marvelous! And therefore..." He took a paper and held it out to her: "We would ask you to sign this new contract."

Christine took it and read it. The contract would bind her to the opera in Paris for at least three years where she was not allowed to go somewhere else. This meant that the managers were afraid of losing her. Her salary was - 20.000 Franc a month? That was by far too much and she suspected Erik had broken his promise and done some 'intervening'. She held out the contract to the managers, pointing to the fee: "Are you sure that is no error?"

Richard Firmin looked it up in the personal file. "No, it's right. In every paper the same sum."  
"Are you really sure?" Christine asked again. She would have a word with Erik and if he had anything to do with that she would... she had no idea what she would do. Yell at him? What good would that do?

She heard the managers discuss among themselves if it was possible that she already had a better offer from some other opera house in Europe. They knew that with a voice like her's she could make it in any opera house and it wasn't unusual for other opera houses to coax the best singers away from others.

When both managers confirmed that the contract was correct according to the personal file she shrugged and signed it. She would not ask for less money than they were offering her and she had given them the opportunity to correct everything.

Erik had a much more difficult day. He had hoped for a boring day studying blueprints when the office boy told him to come to a meeting. He hated meetings. He hated the way everyone stared at him and everyone sneered at him when they handed him exactly those files they hated the most. They made him pay for every prank he had ever played on them and he had no choice but clench his teeth and swallow his pride and do what he was told to do. He hated it but he had no choice - he could not fail Christine now. Not again.

This time they handed him a file and told him it would have been easy if the architect was not such a nuisance. That man was playing rough, bribery, more or less open threats and even attempted blackmail. Erik grinned - none of these methods were new to him, he doubted to see anything he had not done himself. He looked at the other men and knew they loved it to the hilt to see him on the receiving end this time.

"All you have to do is either get him to withdraw the blueprints and send new ones or denying the building licence. But you have to tell him about this two possibilities."  
"That's all?" Erik asked. He did not think this would be difficult.  
"Yes, but be careful - he's really a sore looser."

That was to be found out.

Erik did not meet Christine for she was at the opera when he came home. He found that the new maid had already begun working and used the time he now did not need to do any work to relax. He had not been able to take a hot bath and drink a glass of port wine for far too long. He knew the Daroga would certainly disapprove of this way of relaxing after a hard day at work but he thought he deserved a little bit of fun.

Then he went to the opera, sneaking into his box where the Daroga already was there. Erik was late, but it did not matter - in the second act Marguerite has only one line, so why bother to come before the third act?

"Ah, here you are," the Daroga greeted him, "For a man who claims to love music I see you missing far too many operas."  
Erik shrugged and took his usual seat where he was well hidden.  
"How's your wife? You did not hit her again, did you?"  
"Stop rubbing it in!" Erik hissed. He did not like to be reminded of his misdeeds. He already regretted that he had asked his friend's advise. Now he would have to answer for it a thousand times before his friend would let go of it.

Christine did not well this time. She did nothing wrong, but she seemed to be absent - as if her thoughts were somewhere else and not in the stage. Erik felt bad, he knew it was his fault, he should have been there for her before and not taking time all for himself. He should have known she needed him before every performance.

When he waited for her after the performance he found the contract in her dressing room. He grinned as he saw her new salary, but he knew that she would accuse him of blackmailing the managers again. He had not used blackmail, certainly not, he had not even used forgery. The papers were correct, written by the managers own secretary. The only thing that was not correct had been the note from Moncharmin telling the secretary what to fill in the contract, but that note was never to be found again. He knew he was being bad again but at least it was not blackmail and it certainly was not forgery. It was... well, was it a crime at all? No, his darling was the best singer so why should she not earn the highest fee? And the managers had had their chance to correct the error if they weren't so sloppy.

He was still reading the contract when Christine entered her dressing room.  
"Erik! Just the man I wanted to see right now! What 'little intervening' did you do to get them to give me such an exorbitant fee?" she scolded him.  
"Who? Me? Since when..."  
"O no, Monsieur Erik, don't you dare! I know you are behind this! What scheme is that?"  
"Did you ask the managers?" Erik asked, curious himself just how honest his wife was.  
"Of course! I told them there must have been an error - but they said there was none for in all the copies was the same sum," she answered reluctantly.  
Erik shrugged: "Well then - you pointed it out to them, they told you it was right, why do you accuse me?"  
"Because, Monsieur le Fantome, I know your signature if I see it! I simply do not understand why you bothered with 20.000. If you had written 19.000 or 21.000 I guess I might have missed it. But no, your vanity demanded that you wrote 20.000 just to let me know!"  
Erik grinned sheepishly: "Touche! But you did not refuse and ask for less, did you?"  
"No, after they had checked it twice I just signed it."  
"See - no harm done. They agree that you should earn 20.000 a month or they would have corrected the contract!" Erik grinned even more, forgetting he was not wearing his mask, only his false nose - his grin was horrible.

"If that is your opinion of good behaviour I need to hire a babysitter for you!" Christine scolded him but she could not help laughing. Erik was still far from being good but right now she agreed with him that if the managers thought her fee too high they could have corrected it, she had pointed it out to them and still wondered why they had not cringed seeing that sum.  
"You surely are a bad boy, Erik," she scolded him playfully, "But you are making progress."

Erik made a most elegant bow. He did not understand how she could ignore how he had threatened her just a few days before and treat him with so much kindness. He was deeply ashamed of himself and swore to himself never to threaten or hurt her again.

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 _The leopard cannot change his spots..._

 _But at least this time the managers had a choice - but they are suspecting she had a better offer and was therefor pointing out the sum and didn't even think that she thought it too much._


	64. Chapter 64

**Madness and Hope**

Erik hated to hear that someone had already confirmed an appointment with that architect before he was even informed that there would be any appointment at all. "It would have been nice to know when I have an appointment. Care to tell me where it will be?" he scoffed.  
"Tomorrow at ten o'clock and you will have the conference room."  
"Why the conference room?" Erik asked. He would have liked to do it somewhere else. The conference room was large and had three big windows and had a large mirror - Erik would have preferred a darker room without mirrors.  
"Because the conference room has a special mirror. We will be in the next room, in case you need witnesses to testify that he threatened you."  
"How considerate," Erik sneered. He would even have all his old adversaries watching him and enjoying the show. He felt as if they were locking two combat dogs in a pit and watch them tearing each other apart. They wanted a show - he would give them one!

But first he went to the head of the office and asked about the special mirror to the conference room.  
"I knew you would ask that. Well, you remember that brothel you designed for that scum? It was surely the most pervert building I ever saw - but the special mirror was something I thought convenient for a conference room."  
Erik chuckled. Yes, he had been in desperate need of money that time - so he had agreed to design that luxury brothel making much money in a very short time. But he wondered how unimaginative the building authority was to use only the mirror for the conference room when they had seen his designs.

The next day Erik was prepared for the meeting. He knew he had an audience of twentytwo men, including the head of the office, and had warned them that he planned to make a little show.

The architect was a young man with dark brown hair and a mustache. He was handsome and arrogant - Erik disliked him on the first view when they met in the conference room.  
Neither one said anything, the architect pretended not to notice Erik who pretended to be busy reading a book about building regulations. Finally it was the architect who spoke first to no one in particular: "I was under the impression I had an appointment with an official?"  
Erik answered calmly without looking up from his book: "Yes, that's me - but I'm waiting for an architect..."  
The man snorted. Obviously they entered a combat who could be more arrogant.

The architect finally looked at Erik. "Now, you have my attention. What do you want to tell me?"  
"We are to discuss that blueprints... you asked for a building licence and these blueprints show that you are ignoring almost every rule," Erik answered without looking up, "Or is it that you are simply incompetent?"  
The architect stood up and leaned over the table, looking down at Erik threateningly: "I was under the impression that you are allowed to overlook minor errors?"  
Erik still did not look up from his book as he replied: "I won't call five square meters 'minor'."  
"Maybe you should in a big building project like this."  
"Really? Well, if it was the only error... maybe. But it isn't."

"What do you want, Davisseau? I understand that you are angry with me because I did not give you the job you asked for - a very much better paid job than you are doing now. Well, maybe we can talk about damage compensation?"  
Erik barked out a laugh. "Compensation? My dear boy, you have much still to learn if you want to bribe an official. You really think me stupid enough to accept bribe money and make myself vulnerable to blackmail? HA!"  
"Maybe you are paranoid, old man. Tell me, if you are so paranoid, are you sure you can keep your beautiful wife save in this city with all it's bad men?" Now that was a barely veiled threat and one Erik could not ignore. He slammed the book on the table and was on his feet, glaring at his opponent. The next moment he knew it was an error for he had given away his weak spot in his anger - they both knew it.  
Erik took a deep breath, straightened his back and ran his hands over his face, taking off his false nose and placed it on a shelf behind him. He grinned as he saw the other man pale and sit down. Erik took out his handkerchief and to blow his nose, then replaced the false nose and smiled. He had succeeded in frightening that young man. Now the scales were balanced.

Now it was Erik who leaned over the table and looked at the young architect: "What of yourself, aren't you worried about your daughters going to school each morning so very close to a place where a secret brothel is?" The architect flinched and Erik knew he had just gained the lead. If that man was threatening his wife he just wanted him to know that he would be more than able to take revenge.

"Is that a threat?" the architect asked.  
"No, I merely give you a warning for I was under the impression you did not know about the danger. Now, as to your blueprint..."

The architect got up and turned to leave.  
Erik caught his arm to hold him back. "You will listen to me!" he hissed.  
"O yeah? And why would I do that?" the architect asked, "Just because you have your orders? Well, I don't give a damn at your orders. I won't listen and I won't withdraw the blueprints. You can't proceed in your prescribed routine if you don't give me the instructions - but I won't listen! Unhand me now!"

Erik knew he could not start a fight now. Not with the audience he had now - otherwise he would simply have tied him down so he could give the lecture. Well, this man really wanted to have it the hard way. Fine. Erik let him go and took a step back, taking a deep breath.

After the architect was gone Erik turned to the mirror and said: "Okay, it seems I have a second appointment with him today. Maybe I will really need a witness to that - who will accompany me at three o'clock?"

At three o'clock Erik met with seven men - including the head of the authority - at the architect's private apartment. "Why did you ask us to come here?" the short man asked.  
"Because I need you to witness that I give him the lecture and he withdraws the plan. I don't want him to be able to deny it later on. Now, if you please follow me?" Erik could not help grinning in anticipation. This was going to be quite a show. Erik went to the front door and opened it with a picklock so fast it looked like he had a key. The other men looked at each other confused. "Now, please be silent. Not one noise, that is important," Erik said.

They sneaked into the apartment and Erik went directly to a certain door which he opened with the picklock noiselessly. Then he pushed open the door to the bedroom - the architect was in his bed with a woman and both weren't dressed. Erik needed all his self-control to keep his face expressionless. "Good evening, Monsieur," Erik greeted as if he did not see anything, "Since you were in such a hurry this morning that you could not hear the instructions I took the liberty of coming here."

The couple in the bed managed to hide under the blanket. Erik ignored them completely, sat down and opened his briefcase. "Please - don't mind me," he said in a most bored voice.  
The men waiting in the parlor - only three of them could see anything through the half opened door to the bedroom - fought hard not to laugh. They all would have to work overtime because Erik's little game put them all behind schedule but they really loved this show.

"What... what do you want, Davisseau?" the architect gasped.  
"I'm just doing my job. I have to give you that lecture, then we have to fill this form and then you have to sign it. Please - don't mind me, I can read this while you... go on in your activity."

"I want to go now!" The woman complained.  
"By all means - don't mind me!" Erik said and spread his hands. It was so hard not to laugh at the most bizarre situation he had created. He pretended to be in an office and just do his job when he was in the bedroom of his opponent who was naked in his bed with a woman. The woman did not try to get up but stayed hidden under the blanket.  
"Now, I start with reading you the lecture..." Erik started.

"What time is it?" the architect asked worriedly.  
"O, it's half past three," Erik answered after long-winded checking his watch.  
"Your wife is coming home any minute now!" the woman cried out.

"Just go away!" the man screamed but Erik ignored him. He loved that the man did not dare leave the bed naked, he had been worried he might have to deal with a shameless man who would physically attack him but this did not happen. As long as the couple had to cover beneath one blanket he had nothing to worry about.  
"Of course, after I gave you the lecture and filled this form and you signed it," Erik said, still calm and his face expressionless.  
One of the witnesses could not hold back any longer and gave a stifled chuckle. Another one coughed.

"How many men are there in my parlor?" the architect asked almost panicked.  
"Only seven," Erik answered innocently, this time no longer able to contain a sneer as the architect rolled his eyes and groaned. "By the way - it is three forty-two now. Usually your wife comes home from visiting her mother at three forty-five, doesn't she?"

"I withdraw the request! I withdraw the blueprints! Just give me the form, I sign it!" the architect screamed in a high-pitched voice.  
"Certainly - but are you sure you want to give me a blank signature?"  
"Hell, yes, you win you bastard! Curse you! If I ever meet you in a dark ally, I'll kill you! Give me the bloody paper!"  
Erik just shrugged, handed him the papers and a pen, the man signed and handed papers and pen back. Erik gave a mocking bow and said: "My pleasure. Thank you for being so cooperative."

When all men were outside the house they could not hold back their mirth any longer and roared in laughter. "My hellhound!" the short man exclaimed and slapped Erik on the shoulder, "My hellhound! That was most funny! But you know that you committed domestic disturbance?"  
Erik shrugged: "Domestic disturbance? You really think he would accuse me of domestic disturbance? After I got two papers with his blank signature and can fill in whatever I want to?"  
"He signed twice?" the fat man asked astonished.  
"Yes, I just handed him two papers and he signed both - the second one wasn't even a form it was just a sheet of paper," Erik grinned wickedly. He had won in every possible way.

"He got what he deserved," another man observed, still laughing, "Davisseau, that was great. How did you do that? Sit in there and not laugh?"  
Erik shrugged. "If your life depends on your ability to play-act you learn it very well."  
"How did you know when to come here?" another one asked.

"Detective work, simply detective work," Erik replied with a smirk, "One should always know as much about his opponents as possible."  
"Why do I feel much saver now that you're on our side?" one of the men asked.

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 _For those who are confused about the time Erik is telling - he's giving the wrong time but the architect is not able to think clearly in that situation._


	65. Chapter 65

**Madness and Hope**

When Erik was on his way home he found the Daroga waiting for him. "What do you want?" he asked.  
The Persian sighed: "We had a deal, have you already forgotten? I find out what I can about a certain architect and you answer three questions in return. You answer honestly and without holding anything back - I ask and you give me the full story."  
"I must have been mad when I made that deal," Erik sighed.  
"You were desperate but you knew perfectly well what you promised," the Daroga snorted. He had counted on Erik going back on his promise as soon as possible, and he knew exactly what to do now. "If you do not keep your part of the bargain I'll tell your wife."

"That's blackmail!" Erik complained.  
"Yes, YOU know everything about blackmail, don't you? Well, if you do not pay my fee - which is just information - I tell her that you are a racketeer again. What do you think she will say to that?"  
"I'll kill you!" Erik hissed.  
"Really? And how are you going to explain this to your wife?"

Erik threw his hands up in a mock gesture of defeat. "All right, you got me cornered. I give up. But let's not discuss this here but in my home. Want some tea?"

When Erik came home he found the house cleaned and tidy, the maid had already gone home and left a note that she had done the shopping and he would find everything in the kitchen. On that note she asked if the next time Madame could write the shopping list for her because with Monsieur's list it was more or less a guessing game and she was never sure if she got the right things. Erik groaned. At least he was still the one to do the cooking. He hated to have a stranger cleaning up, doing the laundry, touching everything in his house. On the other hand it was nice to have some time to relax before going to the opera or having the music lesson with Christine.

But now he had a Daroga to deal with. A Daroga who had had much time to think about the questions he would ask. Erik prepared tea and they sat down at the couch in the living room. Erik took off his false nose - he could not eat or drink anything hot with it, the steam might damage it - and if the Daroga wanted to annoy him with questions he could very well punish him with having to do it face to face.

"First question: Did you return all the money to the managers of the opera house?"  
"How the hell do you know?" Erik asked, taken aback.  
"There have been rumors that the Phantom of the Opera had gone away for good and as a sop to his guilty conscience given them recompense."  
"Rumors? Or has one of your mistresses overheard the managers talking?" Erik asked suspiciously. He knew his friend's preference for women with a terrible curiosity and a talent for eavesdropping who were tattletales. Well, maybe that was what made him such a great policeman - he had so many women doing his work without knowing. When the Persian did not answer, Erik finally said: "Yes, I did. I gave them all their money back, with interest."  
"Whose money?"  
"What do you mean?"  
"Moncharmin and Firmin or Debienne and Poligny?"  
Erik bit his lip and scratched his ear. "Moncharmin and Firmin."  
"I thought that much. The other damages?"  
"What other damages?" Erik asked, trying his best to look innocent.  
"You know perfectly well!"  
Erik shrugged: "The chandelier? No, I did not have the money and that has been an accident according to the police and the building authority."  
"HA!" the Daroga cried out, "You know exactly just how worthless your own report is in that matter!"  
"And what are you going to do about it? You already went to the police and it got you nowhere! Why are you bothering me?"  
"Other damages? Such as taking the horse, killing Buquet, ruining I don't know how many performances?"  
"No."  
"Okay, second question..."

"No, you already had more than three questions!" Erik exclaimed and got up.  
"No, I had not. You promised a full answer to each question, withholding nothing. So if I have to worm everything out of you this does not count as a question."  
"Does count!"  
"Does not! Do you want me to ask your wife if it does count?" The Daroga grinned. He would not take advantage of Erik but he knew now how to force Erik to keep his promise.  
"You filthy extortionist!" Erik groaned, "Why? What have I done to deserve such a punishment?"

The Daroga raised one brow, giving Erik a disapproving look. "Don't pretend to be innocent. But right now I just want you to keep your promise. I helped you, you answer three questions, that was our bargain."  
"I hate you!" Erik groaned.  
The Daroga laughed: "No, my friend, you love me and you know that. You simply need someone to banter with, don't you?"  
Erik glared at him, but said nothing.

"Second question: Did you ever... um... have an affair with the sultana? A real affair, not just admiring her from afar?"  
Erik started biting his nails. "Why do you ask?" he shot back uncomfortably.  
"I'm just curious. It has been so many years ago and I still wonder if you managed to slip into the harem through one of your trapdoors without the guards and chaperones."  
"I... yes, there was one trapdoor the Shah did not know about, only the sultana. But I did not use it to get to her - she would sneak out so I could take her to Teheran at night."

"You... WHAT? You took her to Teheran at night?" The Daroga stared at Erik in shock. "Do you know what would have happened if you two had been caught?"  
Erik shrugged. "They would have killed us. That was the thrill she was seeking. Go out, create mischief and sneak home without being caught. Or with being caught but killing the guards and blaming it on some insurgents."  
The Daroga felt sweat breaking out on his forehead even after so many years. He had been responsible to keep Erik under control - if Erik had been caught he would have died at his side. "I'm glad I did not know then," he sighed, "I swear to you, I would have killed you myself!"  
Erik chuckled. "That's why I kept my little adventures secret from you. Well, I give you an extra - you want to know how I got out of my apartment without being seen by your guards?"  
The Persian nodded. Erik wanted to show off - let him.  
"Through my bathroom window."  
"But you bathroom was on the fifth floor!"

"Yes, I climbed up and sneaked over the roof. A lush decorated facade makes a nice climbing wall. Now - third question?"

The Daroga took a deep breath. He had known Erik's recklessness but he had not known Erik was that suicidal in Persia. Climbing on a facade at the fifth floor, at a roof, always avoiding being caught by the well trained guards, going to Teheran with the Shah's favorite - and the Daroga knew too well that Erik sometimes had been stoned out of his mind. It was a miracle he had survived.

"No, you did not answer my second question. You told me many things but you did not tell me if you..."  
"Why do you want to know? Daroga, why? It is over, she's dead. Yes, I know the Shah finally got sick of her excesses and had her killed. Why do you want to know?"  
"I want to know if the rumors were right that one of the Shah's children wasn't even his own!" the Daroga nearly yelled, "I want to know if I failed completely."  
Erik chuckled. "Erik has always been a gentleman. Now, third question! I want to get this over with!"

"This will be the hardest one for you," the Persian warned Erik, "Third question: What did you do to make sure you will never hit your wife again?"  
Erik stared at his friend. This was really a very hard question. "Nothing," he admitted sadly, "There is nothing I can do. I have no idea how I could learn to control my temper, so I'm open to suggestions if you have some?"  
"Actually - no. I had hoped you would come up with anything?"  
Erik gave a heavy sigh.

That moment the key was turned and Christine came home from the rehearsal. "Good evening. How nice that you visit us, Monsieur. You'll stay for dinner?" she greeted the Daroga politely, then she turned to Erik: "Today's rehearsal was a mess. Someone forgot a bucket with soapy water and it was kicked over by a horse and fell into the orchestra pit. They thought the Phantom was back. Don't worry, I know it wasn't you but Raoul was not convinced. He still does not believe that you have a normal job now."  
Erik smirked and reached for his mask to cover his face before he greeted his wife.

"You know she is seeing the Comte the Chagny?" the Daroga asked astonished.  
Erik shrugged. "Yes, I know. I trust her." He felt uncomfortable - his dilemma was that he did certainly not trust her but he was afraid of accusing her falsely for then he might destroy the love she had developed for him. They had an emotional bond but it was very fragile and easily shattered - he did not dare confront her with his jealous fears. He could only try to keep his eyes closed for if she would betray him - he was not sure if he wanted to know. His life with her was so wonderful, he was afraid to destroy it.

"Erik, what do you think?" Christine asked.  
"Um, oh, what?" Erik mumbled, he had not been listening.  
Christine laughed: "You hear everything - only when somebody is talking to you you pretend to be deaf. I said it would be a wonderful idea to invite your friend for dinner and he agreed."  
"Very well - if you need me, I'm in the kitchen," Erik said. He needed to be alone, he needed to think.

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 _Did anyone wonder after the last chapter how Erik got the information? Well, here is the answer - he had professional help!_

 _Next chapter will be up Monday, have a nice weekend and please review!_


	66. Chapter 66

**Madness and Hope**

In September Erik got another task he strongly disliked because it concerned the very same architect he had dealt with before. He had no wish to meet him again, but obviously everyone had decided Erik was the best man to deal with bad-tempered architects and maybe even their even worse advocates he had no choice. Right now Erik wished he had found another job, but he had to decide if he would quit and confess his failure to his wife or pull himself up and do what had to be done.

It was not a difficult task, just an inspection on a building side for there had been a complaint that the building did not even resemble the blueprints in the least. Anyone could see that - the problem was more to go there and not be beaten up by the architect and his workmen. Nice idea to have a few 'drunken workmen' who would beat anyone for enough payment and then run away and leave the city. No problem to find rouges to do so - Erik knew, he had used that trick himself a bit too often, he wasn't sure if it was not he himself who had taught that scumbag this trick in particular. So, he would have to give him a warning, but without killing anyone. He could not afford to commit a crime right now. So better taking that architect by surprise.

Erik asked his superior if he would like to accompany him - with the nice side effect that he had eighteen men coming with him, all eager to enjoy the show they were sure he would give them. Well, maybe he could use this to his advantage.

They went to the building site very early in the morning. No one was there except two workmen who had their breakfast. "Okay, no one is allowed to go there!" Erik shouted, "It's far too dangerous! Absolute stop to all building here!"  
"Dangerous?" one of the workmen approached them while the other one ran away, obviously to call the architect.  
"Yes, very dangerous!" Erik said. His audience - most of them architects themselves, some lawyers - looked at each other. The building was utterly different from the blueprints and did not meet any of the requirements but they did not see any danger.

It took about half an hour then the architect came in a hurry. "What is the meaning of this?" he roared.  
The head of the building authority just pointed to Erik: "He's in charge here."  
Erik rolled his eyes. Of course. He was in charge. There were only eighteen higher ranking officials there - but he was in charge. Very well.  
"What is the meaning of this?" the architect yelled and was about to push Erik aside. Erik reacted instinctively and the man found himself lying at his back on the ground, Erik's knee pressing painfully against his stomach, one of Erik's hands at his throat. Erik hadn't even dropped his briefcase.  
Erik got up and held his hand out to help the man up. "Are you hurt? You young men - always in a rush, always running and not looking were they step. You could have hurt us both," he said mockingly. The younger man knew that this had not been a mere accident, but he would not admit this old man had beaten him easily - he'd rather call it stumbling.  
"No one is allowed to go there - too dangerous!" Erik stated again.  
"Dangerous?" the architect laughed and with him his workmen. Surely there was no danger.  
"Yes, very dangerous. Look - the scaffolding is so sloppy, it might collapse every moment now," Erik said seriously. No one understood why Erik was talking about nothing but the scaffolding now, for the only thing at this building site that was done properly was the scaffolding.

"He's crazy," the architect said to his foreman.  
"Crazy, am I?" Erik asked, "Yes, maybe I am crazy for I am about to do my duty to inspect this building site, ignoring the grave danger. No one except me is allowed to go there! Keep away from the scaffolding!" Then Erik went to the scaffolding and started climbing up, cautiously, slowly. No one understood his warning but they stood back.

The architect got nervous and followed Erik to the scaffold. "Davisseau, this is ridiculous! There is no danger!" he cried out.  
"Stay back!" Erik yelled, he had already reached the first floor, "And it is Monsieur Davisseau, by the way."  
"You're nothing but a crazy old fool! You're too old for this work, go home!" the architect mocked him as he himself reached the first floor.

That moment the scaffolding crumpled and fell. Erik managed to hold himself at the windowcase as the scaffolding fell as if the shell construction had pushed it away. He pulled himself up with his arms and sat at the windowsill, looking down where the architect had fallen. "Is he injured?" Erik cried out, real concern in his voice.

The men who had witnessed everything stood there in shock. Had this really happened? Some eventually thought they had seen Erik jump and grab the windowcase before the scaffolding crumbled, but how could he have anticipated that it would? One of the workmen rushed to aid the architect who was already sitting up, bruised, dirty, his clothes ruined and his legs arching.

Erik disappeared into the building, obviously taking the stairs for he reached the architect only moments later. "I told you to stay back, you fool! I never give a warning without good reason so you better heed it!" he exclaimed breathlessly. Then Erik bent down to examine the other man's legs and arms. "Nothing broken, only badly bruised," he said, then stood up and looked down at the other man's face waiting for him to look into his eyes.

The young architect made eye contact and suddenly saw something he had never seen before - those amber eyes of the wiry man before him held a certain coldness that sent a shiver down his spine. He knew as clearly as if it had been spoken aloud that he was looking in the eyes of a killer, that man before him was no ordinary building inspector. The young architect had always considered himself a reckless rogue and he was used to have human scum to do the dirty work for him, he had seen their eyes, their brutality, but he had never seen this coldness. He had always considered himself a big predator in the jungle of business but right now he stared in the eyes of a top-level predator who had disguised himself as an easy prey.

"Next time you heed my warning! Be thankful we were just at the first floor and not the fifth," Erik growled and the young man flinched. He felt as if the older one was about to go for his throat any moment now and just nodded. The young man knew that he now dealt with a man who could murder him before the eyes of all judges of Paris and make it look like an accident.

Erik turned away and called back over his shoulder: "You better be careful not to cross me in the future!" Then he turned to his superiors, who were suddenly very quiet, some of them pale and some sweating. "I don't think he'll cause any trouble in the future."

When Erik wanted to go home that day, the office boy told him that the head of the authority wanted to see him. Erik growled but he obeyed. He had no choice.

"Davisseau, the hellhound!" the short man greeted him with a huge grin, "You scared him to death! And you gave my men a good reminder to why you are called 'the hellhound'! They are really scared!"  
"Sir," Erik gave a stiff bow. He just wanted to go home.  
"Have a seat," the short man said and gestured to a chair. Erik sat down. He did not like this - they could not guess what had happened, could they? He had the feeling that the had gone too far this time.  
"Cognac?" the short man offered.  
"Alcohol at work? I don't think so," Erik refused. He wanted a drink, badly, but he did not dare right now.  
"Your work is done for today. You really don't want one?"  
Erik shrugged and gave in: "If you insist..." and hated himself at the same time for his weakness. He knew he should better not drink strong liquor and surely not on an empty stomach! He took the glass nevertheless.

"Now that we are in private," the short man started and conspiratorially winked at him, "How did you do that?"  
"Do what?" Erik asked, putting on his most amiable air.  
"You really think I would believe that scaffold had the good idea to collapse just at the right time?"  
Erik grinned. "Actually no. But you all heard me warning everybody about the danger. You all saw me climbing up alone and telling him to stay back."  
"Yes, we did. And my men are still discussing if this was an accident or if you sabotaged the scaffold. There's no prove, but I suspect that all was one of your tricks - and a good one! Cheers!"  
They sipped at their glasses. Erik fought for a decision: Could he trust his one-time adversary? Could he risk trusting that man or should he keep his little secret? If he trusted him with it, he would make his superior his partner in crime in a weird way, thus securing his own position. But if his superior was too honest he would be fired immediately. Decision made, Erik reached in his pocked and drew out a single bolt and a fishing line and placed it on the table. After a few moments he took it back and put it in his pocket. The short man nodded and said aloud: "We will never know what caused that scaffold to collapse. It is a miracle no one got hurt except the architect in charge - but it is his own fault."  
Erik let out a sigh of relief. He knew now that his one time adversary admired him for being able to do exactly those things he himself would like to do but never dared.  
"I think I did this young man a great favor today for I taught him a valuable lesson," Erik mused.  
"And what lesson would that be?"  
"There is always a larger predator in the jungle."

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 _Erik really takes a risk here for he definitely goes too far - but there is no prove that it was his fault. Benefit of doubt. And he has a mighty friend who is protecting him._


	67. Chapter 67

**Madness and Hope**

At the beginning of October Christine told Erik she had to tell him something serious and he better not get angry. Erik flinched - whatever it was, he knew for sure he was going to get very angry and he was not sure he would be able to hold back.  
"You want me to get the Daroga to protect you?" he asked.  
"No, what I have to tell you is only for your ears."  
"Very well," Erik sighed. His worst fear was that she was going to tell him she had an affair with Raoul and wanted a divorce. He did not know if he would be able to keep himself from killing her then.

"Erik, I... haven't had my period for months."  
Erik sat down and held onto his chair, trying not to faint. He stared at her and did not know what to say, his breathing quickened until he was hyperventilating.

"Erik? You look like you are going to be sick?" Christine asked worriedly.  
He really felt nauseated and lightheaded. He tried to calm his breathing and think - but that was not easy. He felt as if his brain had just run away and he felt like running away himself. Run and never come back to face the consequences. But that would mean leaving her... which he could not do. But what could he do? His heart pounded so hard it hurt and he felt a lump in his throat that was going to strangle him.

His mind raced. This could only mean she was pregnant. Pregnant. A child. She was going to have a child. Maybe his child? It was not impossible... he had lost control once, after that private rehearsal for Carmen... Since then he had remembered his intend not to father a child and hadn't touched her again. Obviously his self-restraint had come too late and turned out to be in vain.  
"Mine?" he asked, not angry, just curious.

Christine was angry. Very angry. Of course it was Erik's child! "How dare you?" she yelled at him, "Of course it is your child! I never betrayed you!"  
"Lucky me," Erik mumbled and shook his head. It sounded sad, almost desperate. What could he do now? He certainly did not want a child now and Christine had already told him that she too did not want a child. If it was his child, what if it inherited his looks? Erik trembled violently and closed his eyes, fighting the panic.

"I don't want you to have an induced abortion," Erik said, his voice high-pitched and raspy, it sounded nothing like his normal voice.  
Christine grabbed him at the front of his shirt and shook him, as she screamed at him: "Are you mad? I tell you we are going to have a child and all you can think of is murdering the unborn baby?"  
"I said I DO NOT want..." Erik defended himself weakly.  
Christine released him and sat down at her chair. "You don't want a child either," she observed.

"I... o god, I'm so sorry!" Erik wept as he sank to his knees before her. "I am so sorry, my darling! I'm so sorry."  
"We are going to have a child - why do you say you are sorry?" Christine asked though she suspected she already knew.  
"I'm so scared," Erik whispered, "I'm so scared it might look like me."  
"It will not!" Christine said firmly, "I do not allow it to look like you."  
Both knew that her approval would not change anything. But Christine was not ready to allow herself to even think of the possibility to have a child looking like Erik. He still covered his face - and she was grateful. She knew it, she saw it occasionally but it still frightened her. She knew how his life had been but right now she saw him living a normal life - as normal as it was possible for him. Erik felt he was on the verge of a breakdown but right now he felt the need to be strong - be strong for her sake. He would help her until the child was born and then he would do what had to be done and claim it was cot death. What was one more murder on his conscience? But then - he wasn't even sure he could bring himself to do it. A newborn baby...

Erik stumbled to his feet. "I need fresh air," he whispered, grabbed his cloak and hat and left the house. He knew he would be sick soon and did not want her to see him falling into despair. He could not comfort her, but at least he would not burden her with the void of darkness that was swallowing him now.

"Erik, don't go now!" she cried behind him.

He did not dare look back or he would break down then and there. "Christine, please understand that I have to go now to protect you from myself," he said, his voice tired, he suddenly felt so weary - he just wanted to sleep and never wake up again. He did not wait for her answer, he just went away.

Christine watched him go. She did not want to be alone now but when she had seen him walking away he had suddenly looked like a very old man, his back hunched, leaning on his walking cane, dragging his feet in painfully slow steps. She did not know why he was going away but she knew it was better to let him flee her before he lost control. Was he angry? Sad? Terrified? She was not sure. He was obviously not happy at the thought of having a child.  
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 _Sorry I couldn't upload this chapter sooner - there was some server error. But now it is up and I hope that I can upload the next chapter tomorrow. Thank you for reading and please review._


	68. Chapter 68

**Madness and Hope**

It was late in the evening when a knock on the door startled the Daroga. Darius went to open the door and stumbled back with a terrified cry that brought his master to his side. Leaning against the doorframe was Erik - dressed in his black cloak and black hat and a fawn mask that was wet with sweat. Erik swayed on his feet and leaned against the doorframe for support, clutching a walking cane with both hands for he needed something to hold on.

"Erik, what happened?" the Daroga asked and grabbed Erik's arm to help him inside and sitting down at the couch.  
"It... is... is... isss... c...c...cold," Erik stuttered through chattering teeth.  
"Darius, get him a cup of tea," the Daroga ordered, then sat down beside Erik. He knew he could not press the masked man for answers now or he would only worsen his already sick state of mind. He had to calm him down before he could get any answers.

The Persian tried to take the cane from Erik's hands but he held onto it with terrible strength. "Erik, you don't need that now, do you?" he asked gently. Erik still did not release the cane. "If you are that cold, would you not prefer a cup of hot tea in your hands?" Erik released his grip on the walking cane and his friend was able to take it from him. Only now could the Daroga see how much Erik was trembling. There was no way Erik would be able to hold a cup of tea now.

The Persian took Erik's hat away and even the mask. Erik did not react, he just stared at the tea sitting on the table. That was frightening - Erik not reacting to his mask being snatched off, it was far worse than the Daroga had expected.

"Wanted to go... opera... cold... didn't make it..." Erik mumbled, then turned his head slowly to face his friend: "Need help"  
The Persian swallowed hard. Seeing Erik in a desperate state like this could mean everything and he braced himself to expect the worst. "What happened?" he asked, no longer able to hold back his question.  
Erik did not answer, just stared at his friend. "Need help" he whispered again.  
"Erik, I will help you but you have to tell me what happened!" the Daroga replied, his voice shaking.  
Erik trembled even more and lowered his head. "Child" he whispered.  
"What?"

It took two hours before the Daroga had coaxed the story out of his sick friend who was barely able to speak, switching from one language to another in his desperation, burning with fever and still feeling cold. It was up to the Daroga to get Erik out of his cloak and suit for allowing the already feverish man to even gain more heat might kill him. He carried Erik to his bedroom, helped him to lay down on the couch there and helped him to undress. Darius brought wet towels and the Daroga pressed one of that against Erik's forehead while Darius put the second one over Erik's legs. They needed to cool him down a bit.

When Erik started to cough Darius gave him the now cool tea and helped him to drink. Erik took the liquid without protest. Then he looked up at his friend and said the first real sentence in hours: "I have no idea what to do. I need help."  
"Erik, you are going to be a father, that is wonderful," the Daroga tried to calm him, "You always wanted someone to love you without any conditions or doubts - your child will do that for sure."  
"It might look like me," Erik retorted and shuddered, trying to suppress the wave of nausea that washed over him at the mere thought of it. Darius hurried to fetch a bucket which he placed beside the couch.  
"Erik, your parents and you siblings did not look like you, didn't they? There is a good chance that your child will be normal," the Persian tried to comfort his friend.

"What if..." Erik could not finish whatever he was about to say for another wave of nausea washed over him and he barely managed to grab the bucket before he was violently sick.

"It's okay," the Daroga assured him, "We'll take care of you. Don't worry about that - Darius! DARIUS! Don't run away when I need you!" Having to watch Erik being sick was one of the most disgusting things he had ever seen, and he had seen many things in his time as Daroga of Mazenderan. He had seen many corpses in various states of decay - but not one of them had bolted up and vomited. The Daroga had to turn his back to Erik or he would have been sick himself.

"I'm sorry," Erik mumbled.  
Darius came back and threw a towel at Erik, taking the bucket and leaving another bucket there. He knew what he had to do now and while his masters main concern was to help the sick man, Darius main concern was to get through the ordeal with as little trouble as possible.

The Daroga handed Erik another cup of lukewarm tea. "Here, try to drink, it'll take the taste away."  
Erik took the cup in his trembling hands - now he was able to hold it - and took a sip. That was a good sign, obviously Erik was already recovering.

"I don't know what to do," Erik whimpered.  
The Daroga took a deep breath. Now what could he tell his friend? Assure him that the child will look normal? What if it really did look like its father?  
"If you could sent a message through time to your father," the Persian started carefully, "What would you tell him to do with you after you were born?"

Erik cackled. He really cackled and the Daroga recoiled from the insane sound of it.  
"All my life I was sure I knew the answer to that question but now I'm not sure any longer," Erik replied, his voice shaking as he tried to stifle the mad laughter.  
"What do you mean?"  
"All my life the answer to that question would be easy without any doubt - I would tell him to kill me at first sight to spare me the horrors I've been through. My life had never been worth living. But now... now I'm not sure any more. I... you know since Christine is... is at my side, sharing my life, I... I do not want to die. My life is worth living now, it is... wonderful. I... Christine gives me so much... it is not easy, of course not, and there are times when I want to strangle her, but... right now I think if I had known how much joy and happiness I would have in my old age I would... I would gladly endure everything again, but I would not have become that bitter, hateful and... I would simply endure patiently." Erik shook his head and looked up at his friend. "Do you understand what I try to say?"

The Daroga could not answer, he felt tears welling up in his eyes. This was one of the rare moments when he felt he saw Erik in his most vulnerable state, when Erik was honest and allowed him to see the very core of his soul. In moments like that he could not be angry with Erik or hate him, he could forgive everything Erik had ever done. "Would you treat your child like you were raised by your parents?" he asked.

"No, of course not! I would always love my child, I... well, of course I would have to chastise it but I would never... Daroga, I'm so scared - I will not be able to protect it from the cruel world! God, I would have to teach it how to survive alone... I..." Erik's voice broke and he wept bitterly.

"Erik, these fears are normal. Every father wants to protect his child. Erik, listen to me. Listen to me! Whatever happens, you are not alone now. You won't have to deal with it alone, do you understand that?"  
"I'm so weary... I don't know if I can fight any longer..." Erik whispered and closed his eyes.  
The Daroga covered him with a blanket. "Sleep now, my friend, and tomorrow everything will be much brighter."

When Erik was asleep the Daroga went to his living room and turned to Darius. "I'm too old to witness his breakdowns," he sighed, "I wonder how he can bear to live through them."

That moment a knock at the door startled them. Darius opened and saw Christine standing at the door. She pushed him aside and went directly to the living room, asking anxiously: "Please tell me he's here?"  
"Erik is in the bedroom," the Daroga answered and Christine gave a sigh of relief.  
"Thank God, he's here. He was on the verge of a nervous breakdown when he left me - I was so worried he might break down in the streets or somewhere in the catacombs! How is he?"

"He's asleep now."  
"That's wonderful! Please tell me... what did he say? What did he tell you?"  
The Daroga gestured for her to take a seat and ordered Darius to bring them tea and cookies.

"He told me that you are going to have a child and he is worried that it might look like him," the Daroga answered for he felt Christine had the right to know it. "He even considered killing the child if this would happen. But... he told me something, I think you should know: I asked him what message he would sent to his father through time if he had the possibility to do so. He said that all his life the answer to this would be that he would ask his father to kill him and spare him the horrors he had been through. But since you are at his side he considers his whole life worth living and he would endure everything again if given the choice."

"He really said that?" Christine asked, then gave a sigh of relief, "That's wonderful! When he ran away today I... I was so worried. But now I feel much better about it. I want to see him."

She got up and went to the next room. Erik was still asleep, sweat glistening on his face and neck. Christine bent down and gently touched his hand. Erik's eyes flew open, his face contorted in panic, then smoothed as he recognized his wife.  
"Christine... I'm sorry I ran away," he said, ashamed of himself.  
"It's okay, Erik, you wanted to spare me to have to nurse you through a breakdown. That's very considerate of you. But now I want you to come home with me, I don't want to be alone now."

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 _I'm not sure if I can update regularly the next two weeks, but I'll try. Thank you for reading and please review. I always love reviews. ;-)_


	69. Chapter 69

**Madness and Hope**

The next day Erik was barely able to go to work. He managed somehow to go there, but once he was in that tiny office he could not concentrate on anything. He tried, he tried hard but in his head was nothing but a child that would likely be deformed and needed him. He suddenly realized that suicide was no longer an option and the mere thought was frightening. All his life he had considered suicide as an option to whatever decision he had to make - not the first one he would pick but it had been comforting to know that he could always end his life if something became unbearable.

That he was now bereft of this way of escape was frightening. But he would not run away - and killing himself was some sort of running away - and leave Christine alone with a deformed baby. He simpy could not bring himself to even think of this possibility for he knew all too well what his parents had suffered only because of him. He would never leave her alone when she would need him most. No matter what this would do to him, he would not leave her in the mess he had created.

How could anyone expect him to work when he was not able to think clearly? However, locking his door and ignoring the office boy turned out to be a mistake for the head of the authority came to ask him why he had locked himself in and did not answer to anyone.

Erik managed to stumble to his feet and open the door. "I'm sorry," he said.

"Davisseau, what the hell happened to you?" the short man asked as he noticed Erik still trembling and barely able to stand.  
"My wife is pregnant," Erik blurted out before he could stop himself.  
The short man stared at him for a moment, then laughed: "Congratulations! I never thought I would live to see YOU shaken by something. Come on, let's have a drink, you really look like you need it!"  
"Thank you," Erik answered. He wondered for a brief moment if he should refuse - yes, definitely drinking strong liquor in the morning at work was no good idea - but he did not. He needed a drink too badly.

At the large office the short man laughed: "I never thought I see you fretting about anything and now you are scared stiff. May I ask if it is your first child?"  
"I hope so," Erik smirked, "At least I do not know anything about another one."  
"Well then," the short man handed him a large glass of cognac, "Cheers. To our wives."  
They drained their glasses in one gulp and the short man refilled them. Erik wondered if he should protest - two glasses cognac at only ten o'clock in the morning? He wasn't sure if he would be able to do any work after that. But then - he had not done any work until now, he had only been staring at blueprints without understanding them. He accepted the glass.

"What do you think, will it be a boy or a girl?" the short man asked.  
"I hope it will be healthy, everything else is irrelevant," Erik answered.  
"Good answer. Never thought I would get an answer like that from you. I would have bet three bottles of wine that you wanted boys."  
"Why three bottles?"  
"I wasn't sure enough to bet four."  
Both men chuckled.

"I think I better go back..." Erik said after draining the second glass.  
"Really? You give up already?"  
"I can't take more or I'll give blank licenses today and you know that my direct supervisor never checks my suggestions - he just signs them."  
"How do you know?"  
"I wrote on one note 'I'm stupid' and he signed it."

Both men roared in laughter.  
When Erik got up, he said: "Thank you," and it was heartfelt.  
"You're wellcome," the short man answered, "I do respect you, Davisseau, but surely you are a trial at most times. But you are worth the trouble! Now, you go home. You have the rest of the day off but I expect you to work overtime the rest of the week - understood?"

"Yes. Thank you, sir!" Erik gave a bow, this time showing genuine respect for the other man. This man was a natural born leader - keeping the haughty ones on a short leash but encouraging the ones who needed help. That was something he himself had never been able to do, as much as he loved to give orders he had always been a tyrant who had been obeyed out of sheer terror and not respect.

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 _Erik has no choice than becoming more reasonable now that he has to care for a family._


	70. Chapter 70

**Madness and Hope**

Erik wondered why Christine did not show any signs of pregnancy - she was, he was sure about that, in the fourth month but she had never been sick, was never emotional unbalanced, never had unusual wishes for food, nothing. But when she was sure she was pregnant, and a doctor had confirmed that to her, he would not allow himself any doubts. Maybe he should simply be thankful that Christine was one of those women who did not suffer when they were pregnant.

It was an exceptional mild day for end of October. Christine had sung Marguerite that evening, everything was quite normal. On the way home Christine just said that she felt a bit odd. Erik wanted to carry her or fetch a cab but she said this was not necessary, she had an odd feeling in her legs, not her belly. "But maybe..." Erik started but Christine stated she was pregnant, not a cripple and wanted fresh air.

As soon as they reached the house, Christine changed into her nightshirt and dressing gown, which were much more comfortable. "I'll rest a bit. Call me when dinner is ready, please," she said and lied down on her bed. Suddenly she cried out, Erik was at her side in no time.

"What is it?" he asked worriedly.  
"I don't know. First I thought I felt the baby kicked me - but this was different. A sharp pain, but it's over now."  
Erik paled. "I better go and call a doctor," he said.  
"Nonsense. It's just... oh..." She felt another pain, lesser this time, but it was there and it did not feel right.  
Erik, who was standing at the end of the bed, took the blanked and lifted it. He needed to see. "I'm sorry, Christine, I know it is not decent to lift a lady's blanket but... I just want to see if..." He trailed off and his eyes widened. "God, no! Please not!" he whispered.  
"What? What is it?" Christine asked. Her legs felt numb.  
"I have to call a doctor," Erik whispered, "I'll be back in no time. Please, I know it might hurt, but try to lie down at your side and don't move!"

Then he ran. He had no idea where he could find a doctor, he didn't know any doctor in Paris but he knew he could always ask the Daroga.

Erik had no time to wait for the Daroga or Darius to open the door, he just opened it with a picklock. It was dark, obviously they were already sleeping. "Daroga! Get me a doctor! It's a matter of life and death!" Erik screamed, his voice high-pitched and ugly, rather than a siren giving alarm than a human voice.

The Daroga was on his feet in no time, lightening the gas lamp, then he saw Erik standing before him. Erik was despite the coldness dressed only in his shirt and trousers, he didn't even wear shoes right now, obviously he had made his way in socks. "Get a doctor, she needs a doctor!" Erik screamed at him, turned round and ran away.  
"What have you done?" the Persian called after him, but Erik was already downstairs and did not even hear him.  
"DARIUS! Go, get Doctor Raynard! Bring him to Erik's house! It's a matter of life and death!" the Daroga cried and Darius ran off without bothering to get dressed. The Daroga grabbed his cloak and hat and ran after Erik.

When he reached Erik's house he found the door wide open, a carelessness he would never have expected from Erik. He went in, only then did he realize that he was still in his nightshirt and warmers. No matter, he needed to know what had happened. Had they had a quarrel and Erik hurt her? Was she injured? Or already dead?

He heard a scream and rushed to the bedroom. What he saw there was horrible - Christine was sitting on the bed, the sheets were stained with blood. Erik knelt next to her on the bed, his hands covered in blood. "What have you done?" the Daroga asked terrified by the horrible sight.

"Where's the doctor?" Erik asked, his voice harsh.  
"Darius called him, he will be here any minute, Erik, what...?"  
"Get out, get me a bucket with water and towels - bathroom, the small cupboard!" Erik ordered and the Persian obeyed.

Erik took a deep breath. He just wanted to run away or at least curl up in a corner and weep but he could not break down now. He knew all to well what was happening now and there was no way back. She would lose the child, and it was only the beginning of the fifth month... He could not break down now, he needed to be strong, be strong for her.

"I don't want this," Christine whimpered, "I don't want this!"  
"I know," Erik answered, trying to sound calm but his voice was shaking, "Don't fight it any longer, you only hurt yourself."  
"I DON'T WANT!" she screamed, trying to push him away.  
"Don't, please, the doctor will be here soon..."

The Persian put the bucket with water and a few towels on the floor beside the bed. Then he left them, waiting in the living room. He could not be there, could not watch the young woman losing her child. When Christine screamed again, he turned to see again.

She was lying on her back, her legs dangling down on one side of the bed, Erik clutching something in his hands. Christine was obviously unconscious and Erik clutching something wrapped in a towel. "Christine - do you know baptism in extremis?" Erik asked, his voice barely audible. Christine could not answer, she was unconscious. Erik had to do something... he just dipped one finger of his right hand into the bucket, then drew a cross at the tiny head before placing a soft kiss on it. He felt the tiny bundle squirm, but it did not draw breath, then it was silent.

The Daroga watched in horror as he saw Erik crawling away, the tiny bundle still pressed against his breast, then curled up in the corner, rocking back and forth and humming a strange melody. He did not react when the doctor finally arrived.

It was up to the Daroga and Darius to show the doctor where the patient was. "She lost her child," the Daroga said, before the doctor sent him away.

It took a while before the doctor opened the door and asked the Persian who he was and who the patient was.  
"The young woman is Madame D... Davisseau and the man with the mask her husband. I'm Erik's friend, he came to me for help... How is she? Will she survive?"  
The doctor nodded. "Yes, yes she will survive. I don't think she is physically badly hurt, I think she will be able to have children in the future. She woke up shortly and asked about her child. As far as I understood her husband helped her in the preterm delivery. I've never heard a FATHER would be able to do that... But right now he's out of his mind. He just sits there and I do not dare approach him. But we need to get her cleaned up and in a dry bed..."

The Daroga nodded. Christine certainly would not want him or Darius to wash her and dress her, but there was no nurse and Erik... maybe he could get Erik to do that, at least he was her husband, wasn't he? The Daroga went to Erik who still sat there, humming and rocking the tiny bundle in his arms. "Erik, Erik do you hear me?" Erik did not react in any way. "Erik, Christine needs your help. Can you do that?" the Daroga tried again, keeping his voice soft.

This time Erik did react. He turned his face to look at Christine on the bed. "We need to clean her up and get her into a dry bed," the Persian said, "Can you do that?" Erik looked at the bundle in his arms, then at Christine, then got to his feet and handed the bundle - it was the baby completely covered in a towel - to his friend without saying a word. When the Daroga tried to lift the cloth, Erik grabbed his wrist firmly, shaking his head, with the other hand Erik tugged the towel even closer around the baby. He obviously did not want his friend to see it.

Now the Daroga himself felt like he might faint any moment now. When Erik had carried Christine to the bathroom, the doctor said he had to see the child. He pulled the cloth aside and they saw a tiny baby. It was clearly a baby, it had hands, and feet and a face... The Daroga had to sit down when he realized that the baby did not have a nose. Erik's worst fears had been true - his deformation was inheritable. The doctor gasped, then reminded himself that he had seen the man who was apparently the father of this child wearing a mask.

"It is dead," the doctor stated, "I'm sorry."

That moment they saw Erik carrying Christine to his room, placing her on the couch he usually slept on. Erik gently brushed away a curl from her pale face, then returned to the living room. He went to the doctor, who was now holding the dead child. Erik said nothing, just took the bundle and covered the child's face. Then he turned to leave.

"Erik, where are you going?" the Daroga called after him. Erik stopped and looked back, he clearly tried to say something but he could not. He could not say anything, he could not... then everything went black and he collapsed on the floor.

The doctor rushed to his side, snatching away the mask to help the unconscious man to breathe - and let out a horrified gasp as he saw the face. He shuddered. Finally he took a deep breath and turned to the Persian: "If you are his friend, maybe you can help me? We need to place him somewhere he can sleep and I give him laudanum, he needs to rest now. There is nothing more I can do now. Both of them need rest, tomorrow the woman needs water and nourishment and the man... he's not physically ill, I think he's in shock. They should not be left alone now. I'll come back tomorrow to check on them."

The Persian felt horrible. He and Darius being left to care for Christine, who had just lost a child, and Erik, who was clearly out of his mind by now, it was more than he could handle - but he had to for there was no one else who could help them now.  
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 _A very sad chapter in my story but unfortunately a realistic one. I know far too many women who lost a child in a preterm delivery to assume everything would be easy._

 _Next chapter will be up tomorrow._


	71. Chapter 71

**Madness and Hope**

The next morning Erik woke up, went to the bathroom and to clean himself up and change his clothes. Then he went to the Daroga, who had his servant to fetch him some proper clothes and was now a bit better being fully dressed. Erik tried to say something but he found he could not. He tried, but all he managed was some sort of moan and he shut his mouth, disgusted by the sound. He wanted his baby, but he did not know how to say that.

"Erik, what is it?" the Daroga asked helplessly.  
Erik made a gesture as if cradling a child. The Daroga pointed to the small bundle in Christine's bedroom, where they had left the child. Erik went there and took the child in his arms, then turned to leave the house like he had done the night before. The Daroga grabbed his arm and held him back. "Where are you going?" He was suddenly afraid Erik might kill himself to be buried with his child. Erik made a gesture, pointing a direction. The Daroga did not understand.

"Erik, where are you going?" he asked again.  
Erik struggled to speak, his voice a raspy whisper: "Graveyard."  
"Okay, wait a minute, I'm coming with you," he said, then told Darius to stay and wait if Christine needed anything.

Erik did not care about anything this time, he moved like an automaton and to the Daroga he looked even more like a living corpse than ever, even covered with his mask. It was scary to have Erik not talking, not looking around, just walking.

They reached the graveyard and Erik went directly to the cleric, not caring that the man was busy. He just grabbed his arm and dragged him to the casketmaker's workshop.

"What are you doing? What? Erik, let go of me! Erik! Erik, do you hear me?" the priest cried out, suddenly afraid. Only in the workshop Erik let go of the cleric. "Bury him," Erik demanded firmly, his voice a threatening growl. Then he took some leftover boards and made a tiny casket, too small even for a newborn baby, and placed the tiny bundle in it.

The cleric and the Daroga stared in horror as Erik suddenly started to talk to the dead child. "I hope you don't mind the name... I don't know why but it was the first name which came to my mind and you needed an emergency baptism. I wish I could go with you now, but I can't. I think your mother still might need me. Yes, you love her, don't you? Well, at least we love you and I kissed you. You... I hope it was not too painful, those few minutes you lived? Maybe you are too small to feel pain, I do hope so. I love you."

Then he turned to the cleric, handing him the tiny casket. "Bury him! NOW!" he demanded again. The cleric did not dare refuse. All paperwork could wait, right now there was a man who desperately needed help.  
"What is his name?" the cleric asked.

"Phillippe" Erik said, the suddenly sank to his knees, his whole body wracked by violent sobs. The Daroga sat down beside him and put an arm around his shoulders, trying to offer some comfort.

The cleric took the small casket to the graveyard. The gravediggers stared at them, they easily recognized Erik but seeing the tiny casket made them forget all their taunts and mocking they had wanted to hurl at him. Erik picked a place beneath a huge tree. "Here," he said. The cleric did not question him now. He knew what usually happened to a fetus - it seldom was given a grave but this one had lived a few minutes and had been christened, so it deserved a grave. He knew he would get in trouble for ignoring the prescriptions but he could not deny the devastated man now.

The burial was short, the cleric just speaking a few words, Erik collapsed in the grass, lying there, barely able to move. They had no choice but let him lie there. When the cleric was finished, Erik looked up at him and asked: "He is in heaven now, isn't he?"  
"He surely is," the cleric said, holding out his hand to help Erik to his feet. Erik took it and - with the help of his Persian friend - managed to get up. He leaned on the Daroga for support, he could not stand up on his own.  
"And no one will be allowed to exhume him?" Erik asked.  
"No, of course not!"  
Erik gave a sigh of relief. "That's good. Then he won't end up in a glass of spiritus in an university or a museum." The cleric shuddered. He had not seen the corpse but looking at the masked man he could guess that the child had been deformed - and it would easily have ended up as an exhibit in the medical university.  
"I don't want a headstone. But I will make him a guardian angel," Erik stated, now slowly recovering his voice.

"I... um... there is paperwork to be done..." the cleric said, "Maybe we can do that in a few days?"

Erik did not answer, he just turned to go home. "I'll see to that," the Daroga promised, "As soon as he is able to function again..."

When they reached the house, the maid was already there, she and Darius were cleaning up. Doctor Raynard was there, tending to Christine who was already sitting up.

Erik went to her. "Christine, how do you feel now?" he asked softly, the Daroga was surprised how calm Erik was now.  
"Doctor Raynard told me I lost the child," Christine whispered, "I'm so sorry..."  
"Don't! It's not your fault!" Erik said harshly, then cleared his throat and repeated very gently: "It is not your fault."

"Tell me - was it a boy or a girl?" Christine asked.  
"A boy. He... I had to..." Erik swallowed hard and sat down beside her, "an emergency baptism."  
"Thank you," Christine answered, not looking at him but staring at her own hands.  
"I already had him buried," Erik said in a low voice, "He is in heaven now."  
Christine just nodded. She felt nothing right now, she was not able to feel anything, her body was as numb as her mind.  
"Was he...?" she trailed off, not daring to speak the word she feared most in front of Erik.

"He was perfect," Erik assured her, "He was perfect." Then he gently took her in his arms, just holding her.  
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 _I can't promise to update before next Wednesday, but I'll ty. Thank you for reading._


	72. Chapter 72

**Madness and Hope**

The doctor was the first one to think of the things that needed to be done now. He had to fill a death certificate for the baby so they could officially have a burial and asked where Erik and Christine worked for he decided that neither she nor he would be able to work that day.

"She is the leading soprano at the opera," the Persian explained, "And he works at the building authority. Maybe you can sent messages there, I don't think anyone of them is able to care for such things now?" The doctor agreed and told the Persian that he would come back the next day, his advise was, that they should not be left alone now. The Daroga sighed. It was up to him again to babysit Erik, but this time Christine as well. At least there was the maid and there was Darius, he wasn't alone now.

Erik went to the living room and took his harp, the harp was heavy and not easy to move but he managed with the help of Darius to get it to Christine's bedroom, which had already been cleaned up so Christine could go back to her own bed which was much more comfortable. Erik started to look for something in the small drawer of her night table, then took out a sheet of paper. "I'm sorry, I do not remember the melody," he whispered, "I need this."

Erik not remembering a melody. That was not a good sign, it told the Daroga just how devastated his friend was and he wondered how Erik could possibly be so calm right now. Erik was not calm, not in the least, he felt nothing at this moment. He felt as if the shock had shut down all his emotions, leaving him numb and drained, barely able to function. Maybe this was what kept him alive and able to help Christine now. At least he could play for her. A soft music, a strange music, something utterly different from anything he had ever been playing. It was the piece of music he had written for her after their first night together, the music that had come to his mind when he - for the first time in his life - had felt peace for at least for some time. Now he hoped that it would be this music to bring them a bit of this feeling back.

The next day they got two messages - one from the opera, the managers sent get-well wishes and of course understood that Christine could not sing in the next weeks and one from the building authority. They too understood that Erik needed a day off for the burial of his child and even understood he would need another day to recover but they expected him to be back to work Thursday - that was tomorrow. Erik did not even read the letter, it was the Daroga who told him but Erik just shrugged and turned back to playing the harp for Christine. It was obvious that Erik did no longer care if he had a job or not, he simply could not care about that right now. It was enough that he was able to care for Christine now, he was able to cook, to prepare herbal tea and make music - the music really helped her relax, calmed her like a soothing balm on her nerves.

On Thursday the Comte de Chagny came to visit. He already knew from the Managers of the opera what had happened and just wanted to check if Christine was still alive for he was terrified Erik might have killed her by now. The Daroga stood there in the door and did not know if he should allow Raoul to come inside or not. Was it save to invite him or would Erik go mad? He decided to ask Raoul to wait so he could ask Erik and Christine if they wanted to see Raoul.

Christine said yes, she would like to see him, Erik lowered his head and said nothing. "Erik? Would it be okay with you?" the Daroga asked cautiously. Better ask trice than risk Erik going mad.

Erik managed to nod, then got up and left the room. He did certainly not want to see his rival now so he locked himself in his room, but if Christine wanted to see him he would not forbid that, not now. Whatever helped her he would have to endure now. Erik was thankful that the child was dead, he was convinced that all of them, the child in particular, were better off this way. That was exactly what helped him to go on with his life now. He just needed to help Christine to overcome that horrible ordeal, then... he did not dare thinking about it. Just help her now and worry about the future later.

Christine managed to smile when she saw Raoul. "Thanks for visiting," she said.  
"I've been told what happened," Raoul said, "How are you?"  
"I'm not sure. I feel... it does not hurt now but... I don't know," she answered.  
"Maybe you should go to a hospital?" Raoul suggested.  
"No, thank you. I'm already recovering," she answered.  
Raoul did not dare ask her if Erik had done anything to cause her to lose the child. He only assured her that he was there only to help her and asked if she needed anything but she refused. She really did not need anything right now.

When Raoul left, he asked the Persian if he could talk to him in his carriage, away from Erik. The Persian agreed.

"Did Erik hurt her?" Raoul asked.  
"I don't think so. He helped her," the Persian answered honestly.  
"Then why did she...?"  
"These things do happen," the Persian said, "But I am sure Erik did not hurt her and he did not cause the premature delivery. He was devastated when it happened."  
Raoul sat back in his seat, looking at the door of the building. "I know you are on Erik's side but right now the main issue is Christine. I will sent the best doctor of Paris to treat her and I will sent a nurse to care for her. How you explain that to your masked friend is your decision, but I will do that and he will have to tolerate it."

When the Daroga returned to the house he found Erik sitting at Christine's bed again. He asked him to come to the kitchen, they had to discuss something. Erik did not refuse which told the Daroga that Erik was not able to make any decisions of his own right now. He explained that Raoul was sending a doctor and a nurse.  
"Yes, I should have thought of that myself..." Erik whispered, "I'm a horrible husband. I should never have married her, I should never have fathered a child..." he trailed off and run a hand over his head. "She would better be off if I was dead," he whispered, "But she forbid me to kill myself. I don't know... Daroga, is it always so... so complicated?"

"Erik, she's young. I'm sure you can still have a child," the Persian tried to comfort his friend.

Erik shook his head. "You really think I could possibly risk that again? I... when I kissed the boy I... I hoped he would survive. I really wanted him to live. I'm a very selfish beast, am I not?"  
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	73. Chapter 73

**Madness and Hope**

Raoul kept his word, he did send a nurse and a doctor to care for Christine, allowing the Daroga to return to his home with his servant. Both Persians were glad to be home and not see Erik again soon - at lest they had a reason to hope for a reprieve.

Erik was not able to go to work, he spend the days sitting at Christine's bed, singing to her, playing the harp. It was the only comfort he could give her now. He played until his fingers were bleeding and he could not play any longer for he feared his blood might damage the harp strings. They did not talk much, neither one of them able to talk about it. Erik accepted the help of the nurse and the doctor, he was really grateful for he soon realized they helped Christine a lot, especially the nurse to whom Christine could talk to in a way she would never be able to talk to him.

It was Monday when Erik finally realized he could not stay away from his work any longer. Christine was not alone, the nurse was with her and the doctor would come soon and there was the maid to do the housekeeping.

As soon as he showed up in the office, someone - Erik did not know who it was - told him to go to the head of the authority right away and prepare to be hauled over the coals. Erik did not care - he could not care about something like than now. It had been difficult enough just to go there.

"Davisseau! Where have you been?" the short man shouted, grabbed his arm and dragged him into his office. As soon as the door was closed, his demeanor changed and he said calmly: "I know this is difficult, but you can't simply stay at home. Now - I have to do some shouting, I have to maintain my reputation. You may cover your ears if you want to."

Erik just sat there, staring at the table and allowed the short man to yell at him, berating him for refusing to work. He did not care, he could not care now.

When the fat man was finished he wiped his face with his handkerchief and sat down, his face red from the effort. "So - I think everyone in this building now heard me berating you enough. Davisseau, what am I to do with you? I have to take disciplinary measures against you for refusing to work two days. I could even dismiss you now."  
That got Erik's attention. "No, please..." he whispered.  
"I understand that your wife lost your child," the short man said sympathetically, "As a father I understand your inability to work but as your superior I have to take disciplinary measures. Two days - that is two marks on your personal file, that is the mildest punishment I am allowed now. Beware, you have three marks in less than nine month, do you realize that? Five and you are dismissed."  
Erik nodded. "Thank you - I think," he mumbled.  
"Davisseau, I really should have dismissed you or given you a severe punishment like reducing your income or a money fine. Do you realize I am already bending the rules just giving you two marks on your personal file?"

Erik nodded. "Thank you, sir."

He knew that man was right but right now he could not even care. He suddenly felt so old, so very old and weary. It was the same feeling that had driven him to live beneath the opera and stop all outside activity, burying himself in a giant tomb alive. But now he could not do that. That was no longer an option, he had to care for Christine now and this meant he had to stay alive. Or maybe she would be better off if he died? Yes, surely, but she had forbidden him to kill himself. She had said if he loved her he would not even talk about that. How could he possibly go on with his life now? He knew perfectly well that his rival would be able to care for her much better than he could, no matter what he did now. He should never have married her. But then... the time with her, he did not want to miss one single moment, even those that still hurt when he thought about them.

Christine decided at the beginning of December to return to the opera for the rehearsals for the Christmas gala. She felt she could no longer stay at home, so she dismissed the nurse and decided to be healthy enough to go on with her life. She was not sure how Erik felt about it, he did not talk much, somehow he managed to go to work, when he came home he prepared their meal and then he would play music, but he did not sing and did not talk much, he did not even talk to himself. Erik being that silent was even more creepy than when he was talking to himself. It was as if he had given up and just functioned like a reliable machine but she was not sure his soul was still there.

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 _Even if terrible blows of fate occur - the world does not stop turning and life has to go on somehow._


	74. Chapter 74

**Madness and Hope**

When Christine told Erik that she did not want to celebrate Christmas that year, he knew she still grieved over the loss of their child and simply could not stand hearing about mother and newborn child. He wished he could do something for her, help her, anything - but how? Was it better to try to talk to her or would he hurt her even more? Leave her alone or distract her with something, maybe music? Telling her stories? Trying to entertain her?

He hated being helpless and not able to do anything. She was so quiet, of course she went to the rehearsals and she wanted to sing at the gala, but she did not talk to him. Erik was desperate enough to ask the Daroga to follow her to find out what she was doing when he had to work - at first the Daroga had indignantly refused, but when Erik had explained that it wasn't jealousy but his fear for her safety and well-being, he had agreed.

So the Persian followed her to see what she was doing. He asked himself how Erik had managed to get him to do this - maybe it had been Erik's desperate begging "You don't need to tell me, I won't press you, I just want her to be save." that had done the trick. The Daroga berated himself for falling for Erik's pleading yet again. How often had he been disappointed? How often would he fall for Erik's tricks? Sometimes he wondered if Erik was such a good liar he did not even know the truth himself.

Christine did not much - she just went to the rehearsal for the gala, then to a cafe to have a tea. She met Raoul there but they spoke only briefly, then she went home. The next day the very same, and the day after. Finally the Daroga decided to tell Erik that Christine still met Raoul but they only met to have tea together before she went home.

"Yes, I know," Erik sighed, "She told me. What can I do, Daroga, tell me, what can I do? Right now I am willing to do anything to make her feel better but... what? She does not even want to celebrate Christmas."

The Persian shrugged. He could not tell that his opinion was that having more than one wife and several concubines was an advantage for then the women could discuss things like that among themselves and husbands had nothing to do with womanly problems.

"You did not tell her that the child was deformed?" he asked.  
"Of course not!" Erik exclaimed angrily, "I don't want to hurt her even more."  
"Did you ever try to talk to her? Have a really honest talk with her? Women like to talk about everything," the Daroga suggested, "And if they want to talk they really mean that they want to talk and want a man to listen, not commending, not asking, just listening."

Erik stared at his friend. Of course, the Daroga had always been one to enjoy listening. "What do you want to tell me? That I sometimes behave like a woman?" Erik was angry, he knew he loved to talk and have someone listening to him. Listening to someone else was certainly not something he liked.

"YOU wanted my advise, didn't you?" the Persian retorted angryly, "My advise is that you listen to her. Ask her, if she does not tell you on her own. Do not even think of telling her about your own problems, your own pain. Listen to her and just be there for her - that's what a good lover does."  
"A yes, a lover. And a husband?" Erik spat. He knew she was not cheating on him. The child had undoubtly been his, unfortunately, and she met Raoul only to have tea with him, she allowed nothing more than a kiss on her hand like she would allow any stranger. But Erik knew that the young man would have been able to care for her properly and he knew she was able to talk about everything with Raoul - and not with him. He was loosing her again and he did not like it, but this time he did not even consider using threats or force. He knew he was responsible for her suffering and felt guilty about it. But not guilty enough to do the right thing and just die so she would be free to go to the man who could make her really happy - a tiny voice whispered in his mind. It was the tiny voice of his conscience and it had long ago started to talk to him in the voice of his friend.

"Erik? I just asked something, do you hear me?" the Daroga asked.  
"No. I was thinking."  
"I thought that much. I just said that the best husband is the man who acts like he was the lover."

"So to end our discussion - you tell me to listen to her and have a talk and that would help her?" Erik asked.  
"Yes, if you manage to keep your temper in check and overcome your selfishness."  
Erik rolled his eyes and retorted: "Why don't you tell me to grow a nose, that would be much easier?"

"Erik - it is your decision. This is a chance to either strenghten the bond you share with her or destroy it beyond repair. It's up to you."

"Why do you have to be right all the time?" Erik complained.

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 _It's up to the Daroga again to help Erik. But will Erik heed his advise for once?_


	75. Chapter 75

**Madness and Hope**

It was a few days before Christmas when Erik eventually found the courage to ask Christine if they could have a talk.  
"Of course," she said, "Is there anything you want to tell me?"

Erik cleared his throat and got some tea and cookies for them from the kitchen. "Um... no. I just want to know - how are you feeling?"

"Not so well," she answered honestly, "How are you?"  
Erik gave a sigh. He could tell her so many things now but the Daroga had been clear - let her talk. Listen. "I think I can live with it. But I do not want to speak about me and my feelings - I want to know about you."

Christine took a sip of the tea. "I don't want to talk, it hurts too much."  
"Maybe it is painful, but talking about it might lessen the pain."  
Christine looked up. Was this really Erik giving her this advise? Since when had he become so considerate? Usually he cared only for his own feelings and acted as if other people had no feelings at all.

"I do not know..." she trailed off.

"Trust me. It is like... like surgery. It is painful but you feel better afterwards," Erik tried again, "You can tell me everything."  
She gave him a very sceptical look. She obviously did not believe him, she did not trust him.

"Christine, I want to be there for you, I want to help you," he pleaded, "Please, I vowed to be there for you, to protect you and to care for you. Maybe I am the worst husband ever but I can't do that if you do not tell me anything?"  
"No, I don't want to hurt you," she refused.

Erik did not know how to react to this. Should he protect himself and leave it at that? Or should he care for her no matter how much it would hurt him? He was a coward, he was afraid of the pain. But then - SHE was the woman who had lost the child. And it was all his fault, his selfishness had caused her that much pain and he really should do something before he lost her forever.

"Tell me and do not even think of being considerate of my feelings!" he snapped at her, regretting his harsh voice immediately. He was certainly not good in helping anyone. "I'm sorry," he said much more gently, "PLEASE tell me - tell me how you feel and what you need?"

She still gave him that sceptical look. She did not believe him. Then she shook her head and said: "Very well, you want to know, I tell you. I feel so... lonely. I lost our child and I feel guilty. I should not have been singing on stage, I feel like I killed our child when I... but I felt so good, I never have been sick, never dizzy, no problems at all. So I thought it was okay. When I was a child I saw peasant women go to the fields to work and delivering their babies at the fields - I thought if I felt good there was no problem at all. And now it is dead and I have never seen it." She fell silent and stared at Erik as if waiting for an answer.

He did not know what to say. "I saw him," he said softly, but not more.

"Tell me about him," she asked.

Erik took a deep breath and released it slowly. He was not sure if he could tell her the truth. "He was... tiny. So tiny and fragile," he started, then shook his head and looked at the piano.

"A boy," she breathed softly, "Tell me, Erik, what happened?"

"The doctor was too late," Erik answered, hoping she would not press him any further.

"You said you did the emergency baptism?" This was a very important point to her - she was terrified by the mere thought the child might have died to lay in unhallowed ground.

"More or less," Erik answered, "I don't know the right words but the priest said in a case like this anything is right, if it is done..." He had to stop and swallow some tea before he was able to go on. "With all my heart."

"So... we never discussed about a name..." she asked, "I'm a horrible mother, am I not? I did not even think about a name."

"Then I'm the worst father for I didn't think of a name either. I thought I would leave it to you... but you were unconscious and couldn't answer..."

"Tell me the name!"

"I'd rather not..."

"TELL ME!" she yelled at him.

Erik sighed and tried to look at her, but it was too much, he could only stare at her hands, he could not look at her face. "Phillippe" he whispered.

"Phillippe? Why?" she asked. Not angry, just curious.

"I do not know. I really do not know. I hoped he would live, but he was too small," Erik confessed sadly. He had given it much thought why he had picked that name without thinking. Why had he named the child after his last victim? Some sort of pervert self-punishment? Just how crazy was he?

Christine just nodded. "I have never seen his grave," she said, "I'd like to see it."

"It's not finished," Erik answered and her head went up, suddenly she reached out and put one hand at his chin, forcing him to look her in the eyes.

"Why did you bury him before I had a chance to see him?" she asked.

"Because... I panicked. I was afraid the doctor would take him away... I did not want him dissected or something worse. I wanted him to rest in peace." It was the truth, and more - he knew there were collections of deformed foetuses in glasses with alcohol in museums. He had once visited such an exhibition and not even made it through the first room for he had been sickened to his stomach - not so much by the foetuses but by the way people went through that exhibition laughing and chatting, pointing at some corpses they thought funny. He had had to run before he would be sick - and then kill these disrespectful idiots. But right now he could not tell her about that.

"You know that I am meeting Raoul?" she asked suddenly.

"Yes, I know." Of course he knew, she had told him. Why this silly question?

"You did not question paternity," she noted.

"No." This was getting out of hand. Now it was again about himself and he still did not know how to help her. She did not ask him why. He had told her that the boy had been perfect but never asked her if he was really the father - there were two possible reasons for that. He could have kept silent just to spare her when she was so sick or he had lied to her and the boy had inherited his father's face at least partially. Christine wondered which of the two possible explanations was the right one - given Erik's character she suspected it to be the latter.

"I kissed him before he died," Erik said, lowering his eyes, "I wanted him to know that we loved him."

"Erik, please hold me," she said. She needed comfort, she needed someone to hold her, she needed someone to be strong when she was weak - and she just wanted to cry like a child in the arms of her father.

Erik took her in his arms softly, carried her to the couch and sat down with her, as she nestled against him, resting her head at his breast, when she allowed herself to weep for the first time. He put his arms around her, softly humming a soothing melody. He wasn't sure who was giving comfort and who was taking it, it felt so good to hold her.

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 _Erik is doing his very best, but he has no idea if it would ever be enough._


	76. Chapter 76

**Madness and Hope**

Neither one of them knew how long they had been sitting on the couch, Christine sobbing terribly, Erik holding her, for that was the only comfort he could offer. He felt so helpless and did not like it. How could he help her when he himself needed comfort? How could he be strong? He knew how she felt, or at least he could assume from his own nervous breakdowns he suffered every so often. He knew what he needed and he knew that being held like a child helped him a lot - maybe it worked for her as well? She was not sick, she had no fever, she just sobbed until she had no more tears.

Then she became very quiet and Erik asked himself if she might have fallen asleep.

"Thank you," she said softly.  
He should give an answer, but what? He would love to have a chance to ask someone, he desperately needed help.

"I love you," he said.  
"I know," she answered and that was certainly not the answer he had hoped for.  
"Do you... love me?" Erik asked and berated himself at once for that question. If she did not love him, it was better he never knew.  
"You are my husband," she answered and sat up, blowing her nose and drying her cheeks.  
"That is no answer at all," Erik mumbled, more to himself but she mistook it as a question to her.  
"You want an honest answer?" she asked and he nodded, bracing himself for the pain he knew she would soon inflict upon him.

"I do love you, but not like you want me to love you," she answered seriously.  
"I do not understand..." Erik was confused. She loved him, that was great, so where was the problem?  
"Erik, love is not only yes or no, love is like music, from nothing at all to nearly deafening volume everything is possible," she answered and this was something he easily understood. Erik nodded and took her hands, encouraging her to go on, and she did: "My love for you depends strongly on your behaviour and it ranges from pianississimo to piano and sometimes... mezzopiano at best."

"O" He lowered his head and stared at her hands in his. This was not something he liked to hear.

"Erik, I loved you and admired your genius from the day I first recognized you as Erik, the man Erik, the genius Erik, the first day you kidnapped me, but you... you made it close to impossible to love you. You pushed me away."  
"I know kidnapping you was a mistake, the sham with the Angel of Music was a mistake..." he answered mortified.  
Christine shook her head and gently touched his chin again, making him look at her. She wanted to see his eyes now that she had finally found the courage to tell him what she should have told him years ago.

"I am not talking about that. I felt pity and fear and, yes, love and admiration. But you tried to force me to love you, you wanted my love for you to be... fortississimo at least and I was scared. The more you tried to force me to love you, the more you pushed me away from you. Raoul was my childhood sweetheart but... I'm not sure I would have fallen in love with him like that. I really do not know, maybe I would have thought him boring, unimaginative and overcautious but with you being that demanding, threatening and erratic I really came to appreciate his kindness. The more you tried to force me to love you, the more I loved him."

Erik had to turn away. It was too painful. He did not want to hear this. But it was too late - the dam was already broken and Christine was determined to clean the slate- and he was afraid of drowning.

"When you forced me to marry you, I hated you. I really hated you for threatening to kill nearly three thousand people that night for I knew you were ready to commit that horrible murder. But then... You gained my respect when you tried to reform yourself, you fought so hard for my love, put yourself through so much trouble, struggled hard just to make my self-sacrifice easier on me..."

"Self-sacrifice?" Erik gasped. If she had put a dagger right through his heart it could not have hurt more. He let go of her hand and turned away but he still sat on the couch - he did not dare get up for fear his legs would not support him.

"You wanted the truth," she said softly, sympathetic. Then she rested her cheek against his back and put her arms around his chest. "That's why I finally agreed to marry you. I loved you, a piano volume love, and I respected your struggles to reform yourself and... to be true, it flattered my vanity how you idealised me, called me your angel and... well, I think I was a selfish girl with my head full of romantic ideas and yes, it did flatter my vanity to heroically sacrifice myself and save so many lives and help you becoming a good man, saving you as well."

"I wanted you to marry me of your own free will..." Erik moaned.

"Yes, and it was my free will. I respected you enough to keep my promise. You made it easy on me, never insisting on your rights as my husband..."

"I thought you loved me," Erik cried, "You definitely invited me to your bed or was that a horrible misunderstanding?"  
"Yes, there are moments when my love for you is mezzopiano in volume and that enabled me to do my duty, it wasn't bad, you were very considerate and gentle."  
Erik could not hold back his tears any longer. "But you love Raoul more and to me you are just fulfilling a duty out of pity and maybe a bit respect. That hurts, my love, it really hurts."

"I hoped that if I stayed with you long enough I would grow to love you more. Erik, I do love you, but not like I hoped I would. I tried, but even I myself can't force love..." she sighed and pressed her forehead against his back.

"Mezzopiano at best. And him?"  
He did not need to state who "he" was. "Forte to fortissimo," she answered, "I'm sorry."

"Maybe we all would have been better off if I was dead," Erik whispered, "I wasn't even able to care for you when you were so ill - it was Raoul who paid for the nurse and the doctor, humiliating me further, showing me that I wasn't even able to..."

"Erik, it was YOU who helped me when the doctor was late," Christine said, "I guess no other man in the world would have done this. How were you able to think clearly and do what was needed to be done?"

Erik barked a bitter laugh before he answered: "I can delay my breakdowns if necessary, did you know that? I can function in the worst fit of madness and do what needs to be done, I only break down when I relax after the worst ordeal is over. And it was not the first delivery I saw. Gypsy women have their children on the road, did you know that? And I helped with goats and horses when they had problems giving birth..." He stopped himself before he would start to ramble like a madman again. He looked at her, then said softly: "You better go to bed, you are exhausted."

"Erik, can you hold me until I sleep?" she asked. Erik checked his pocket watch. Nearly 4 in the morning. No sleep for him that night.  
"Yes, of course. I'll sing you to sleep, my love."  
"You still call me love, after I said that... THAT to you?" she asked bewildered.  
Erik sighed. He wasn't angry, just resigned. "You just said the truth. And I still love you."

When she was lying in her bed, drifting off to sleep, Erik wanted to leave her room.  
"Erik?" she mumbled sleepily.  
"Yes?"  
"When you first kidnapped me you said you would be contend if I visited you once in a while. Was that true?" she asked.  
"Yes, but then... things got out of hand and I went mad. I'm sorry."  
"I wish I could go back to that day and NOT touch your mask."  
"Me too, my darling, me too."

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 _They finally had a much needed heart-to-heart talk._


	77. Chapter 77

**Madness and Hope**

The next day Erik did not go home after work, no matter how tired he was. He was not sure what to do and needed help. He smiled to himself as he realized just how often he turned to the Daroga for help now.

The Daroga was surprised to see Erik at this cold afternoon suddenly in his flat as if he had come right through the wall. "How did you get in?" he asked angrily.  
Erik grinned sheepishly and held up a picklock. The Daroga rolled his eyes. "You could have knocked, do you know that?"  
"I didn't feel like knocking," Erik answered, "I need to talk to you and wanted to make sure you didn't try to pretend not to be at home."  
The Daroga snorted. "What do you want?"

"A cup of turkish coffee would be nice," Erik said with a wide grin - a horrible grin, his lips drawn back, revealing his discolored teeth, some of them dislocated, some bad and some missing. Erik looked even more terrible when he grinned and the false nose did not much to help him.  
"Why don't you have your coffee with your wife?" the Daroga retorted.  
Erik slumped on the couch with a heavy sigh. "You told me to have a talk with her. Well, I did. And now I don't know what to make of it."

The Daroga groaned and called Darius to make some coffee. He hated it when Erik excited his curiosity and then fell silent. Erik knew too well that the Daroga would do anything to get the information - sometimes he wondered if the Daroga actually needed information like he himself needed music. Erik grinned again, forgetting he did not wear his mask only his false nose. A disgusted look from his Persian friend reminded him to better control his mimic.

When Darius served coffee, Erik asked for some sweets. "Are you done inviting yourself or do you want anything else?" the Daroga asked with dry sarcasm.  
"Yes, a cognac and a glass of water would be nice," Erik answered, not even bothering to pretend he had misunderstood his friend. He was being impolite and right now he liked to be rude, just for the fun of watching the Daroga roll his eyes and give him that scolding, disapproving look.

"Now that you made yourself at home - why did you come here?" the Daroga asked again, sitting down at the table, taking his coffee.  
Erik sipped at his coffee and smiled. He liked turkish coffee with cardamom. What cafes in Paris sold under the name 'coffee' was nothing compared to the real stuff.

"You told me to have a talk with my wife, and I did. But I did not like what she told me," Erik said.  
"I guessed that much. You never come to me to tell me good news," the Persian answered, making sure Erik would not miss the hint. He would love to see Erik just once saying "Thank you" or at least telling good news.  
Erik chose to ignore it. "She told me she... married me out of a romantic idea of self-sacrifice to save the world including me," Erik explained with a sigh.  
"Did she really say so?" the Daroga asked.  
Erik smirked. "No, but that's the summary. She loves me, but she still loves that... that despicable glamour boy much more. She even told me that I literally pushed her into his arms... she might not have fallen for him if I had... not been so... insisting. She said she would have thought him boring but after what I did to... win her love, she appreciated his kindness." Erik fell silent and stared at the coffee cup in his hands.

The Daroga stared at his friend. His first thought was to say 'told you so' but then he decided this was not the right answer, not if he wanted to live. "What did you expect?" the Persian asked, "It is a miracle she does not hate you after all you did to her."  
Erik snorted. "I told her I wanted her to marry me of her own free will - how could I know it was her free will to sacrifice herself to the monster? She said she loved me!"  
"And she still does. Erik, what did you think love is? You don't think that a human being can only love one person at the same time?"

Erik lowered his head to hide the tears he could not hold back. "Yes, I think that's what I thought. I thought if we were married she would stop loving him and love no one but me."  
The Daroga stared at his friend. This was a very childish idea, something only toddlers believed. Only a toddler would think that his mother would love no one but him. Elder children knew that of course everyone could love more than one person.  
"I'm delusional, isn't it?" Erik asked sadly, then wiped away his tears with his hands, struggling to control himself.  
"I'd rather call it premature..." the Persian retorted helpless. He had no idea how to help his friend now.

Erik started to play with the golden wedding band on his finger. It was the first time that he did this. "I really thought a wedding would change it all," Erik mumbled in a child-like voice.

The Daroga shrugged. "A wedding does not change who you are and who she is. She loves you and she is faithful to you - what do you want more?"  
"But she loves him more!" Erik complained.  
The Persian laughed, he could not help himself, he had to laugh at Erik's childish complaint. "Of course she does! Erik, what did you expect after all you did to her? It is a miracle she loves you at all, you should be grateful for that, it is much more than I ever thought you would get from any woman. She is a good wife and she loves you, what do you want more?"

Erik glared at him angrily: "I want her to love no one but me!"

"Do you think my wives or concubines loved me? Do you think I loved all of my wives and concubines? I loved some of them and I never loved only one at a time, but this does not mean that I didn't love them. Erik, you should be grateful for what you have - you have a wife who loves you and who is faithful to you despite the fact that she loves another man."

"But I want her to be happy," Erik moaned.  
"Erik, what do you think happiness is?" the Daroga asked.  
"How should I know?" Erik replied sadly, "I have been happy, yes, but every time I am happy it is over far too soon."  
"But Erik, that is normal. No happiness lasts forever. What did you think?"

Erik shrugged. He did not want to tell his friend that he had hoped for untainted happiness for the rest of his life. Right now he was ashamed of his childish dreams.

"Daroga, we are in a doom loop. I had hoped that our wedding would change it all but it did not. Surely, it is much better than before for she is a good girl and would never commit a sin but... I'm still jealous, I sometimes have a bad temper and I hurt her so much and she... she does not love me like I want her to love me. I wanted her to love me unconditionally..."

"If you mean with unconditionally that you can do whatever you want, even hurt her, and she would be as obsessed with you as you are with her, then no, you will never get that. Erik, mentally healthy people are never that obsessed with another person. No one loves unconditionally - of course your behavior influence her feelings strongly. Erik, what did you think you could possibly expect?"

"I didn't think at all," Erik confessed, staring at his wedding band on his finger, "What can I do now, Daroga, tell me, what can I do?"

"Go home to her and try to be a good husband," the Persian said sternly, "That's all you can do now." Why did Erik always ask him if he was in a mess and needed help to get out of it? Why him? He wasn't Erik's keeper, he wasn't related to him, he... just why had he become his friend?

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 _Now that Erik is depressed and not aggressive - and has recovered from his madness due to the normal life he now has - it is save to tell him the truth. Erik certainly does not want to hear that but it is long overdue that someone talks sense into him (or tries to)._


	78. Chapter 78

**Madness and Hope**

When Erik came home, Christine was sitting at the piano, practicing. She could play but clearly was no pianist. Erik decided not to say anything about that.

"Good evening," he said softly.  
Christine turned round and smiled at him. "Hello."  
They looked at each other, neither one knew what to say and there was an awkward silence.

Erik cleared his throat and said softly: "I didn't want to disturb you. Please, don't stop playing. You can use all my instruments if you like."  
"No, thank you. I'm not good enough for your ears," she said.  
Erik tried to figure out how to answer to that. Lie to her? Encourage her to practice more? "You want an honest answer?" he asked shyly. Christine nodded. "Well... you need a lot of practice to become a pianist," he said and ran a hand through his sparse hair, "And if you want to I can teach you."

He sat down at the table and rested his head on his arms. He was tired, he had not slept at all last night and it had been a long day. He knew he should go to the kitchen and prepare something to eat but he needed a few minutes rest. He was too old to go on for days without sleep. He was drifting off to slumber when a gentle touch at his shoulder startled him.

Christine stood next to him, her hand at his shoulder. "You are very tired, aren't you?" she asked softly.  
"I'm sorry," he said, shook himself and looked around where he might have left his mask. Just how many masks did he have and since when had he started loosing them? He usually left them somewhere in the house. The problem with having a maid was that he knew perfectly well where he had left his masks but she always thought it was a mess and tended to hide them in his cupboard.

"I could cook something," Christine suggested and Erik smirked. He knew all she could cook was scrambled eggs and he certainly did not want that now.  
"No, it's all right," he assured her and pushed himself up.  
"No, it is not. Erik, stop working yourself to death!"

"Why? You have a spare husband who is only waiting to take you to his castle where he can care for you in a way I will never be able to! Why bother with this unloved and worn-out husband of yours? Just wait until he breaks then dump him in the trash!" Erik snapped angrily. He realized that he had hurt her with his harsh words when he saw tears in her beautiful dark-blue eyes. "Christine, my dear, I... I'm sorry. I didn't mean that," he said apologetically, "I'm just tired, that's all."

Christine turned away from him.

"Please... please forgive me," Erik said suddenly panicked he might push her away from him even more, "Please, I didn't mean that. I misspoke, please..."

"And you wondered why I never told you about my feelings," she said softly, "I feared you might use that only to hurt me."

"I didn't want to hurt you! I spoke without thinking, I... I really did not want to hurt you."

Christine turned to him again, looking in his ugly face, he still hadn't found one of his masks. "Last night, Erik, I thought we might get to an understanding. That you really did listen to me, that you really cared about my feelings and my wishes. I thought that given enough time my love for you could grow stronger. Erik, it does! I do love you and my love can grow but... but... if you keep hurting me whenever I think we come closer I don't think you can hope for me to reach that... fortissimo love you crave."

"I'm sorry," Erik said, "I... I better go to the kitchen before I say anything stupid again."

Christine suddenly looked at him sternly. "No, you won't. Let's go out to a restaurant."  
"I really don't feel like being stared at," he refused sadly.  
"Come on - let me invite you for a change?" she asked with a friendly smile.  
Erik shook his head. "You really want to go to a restaurant with me?" he asked.  
"Yes, I do. Erik, please..." She lowered her chin, raised her eyebrows and pushed lower lip a bit forward.  
"You know I can't resist when you give me that face," he answered with a smile. Now she was like a small child trying to get something from her disapproving father. He could not help but smile. "Where do you want to go?"

They went to a small restaurant Christine had spotted somewhere in the sidestreets. Erik did not care, he was too tired to think about everything that had been said and had been done. He only wished to please her and if she wanted to go out he would do so, no matter how tired he was. At the restaurant Christine said: "Wait a minute. I go in, get a table and then you join me, okay?" Erik nodded. Better do it this way than be send away. He was too tired to care at that moment.

The restaurant was in the basement of the building and many tables were set between the alcoves in the heavy structure that supported the fundament, making them look like boxes, allowing the guests some privacy. In the middle of the room was a small piano and a man was playing. Erik winced - the pianist was not good. He spotted Christine in one of the alcoves. He went to her, bowed slightly before he took his seat, wondering what she was doing now. Her smile told him that she had prepared something and he didn't want to spoil her fun.

She ordered two meals and some wine. Erik refused: "No, thank you. No wine for me - I'm tired and if I drink now you'll have to carry me home." Christine smiled at him approvingly.

The food was nothing special and Erik started to wonder why she had chosen that restaurant - there was nothing bad, but nothing good either and it wasn't even so very close to their home that it would have been simply convenient to go to the nearest place. So why? Christine continued to smile at him, as she watched him and in the end it even he enjoyed their meal.

When they were on their way home, Christine pointed out how nice some of the people had decorated their windows for Christmas. "I thought you did not want to celebrate this year?" Erik asked.  
"I changed my mind. I'm a woman, it is my basic right to change my mind," she retorted playfully and he smiled. He liked it when she wasn't that perfect virtuous girl but a woman with faults. He just nodded. He would have to get a present for her... he just wished she had told him earlier!

"Did you enjoy this evening?" Christine asked suddenly serious as if this was very important.  
"Yes, of course," Erik answered automatically. How could he not enjoy going out for dinner with her? He didn't want to tell her that he would have liked a quiet evening at home watching the fire in the Scandinavian wood stove much more - but maybe he was just exhausted.  
"You don't sound very convincing," Christine complained.  
Erik shook his head and stared at the icy street. "I did not sleep last night, I'm tired, that's all. I'm sorry I couldn't appreciate this evening that much - I'm just tired."

Christine sympathetically placed her hand at his arm. "I know I'm selfish. I should have allowed you to rest, but this was important to me, I couldn't wait."  
"Why was this important?" Erik asked, confused.  
"You liked the evening?" she asked again.  
Erik smiled now: "Yes, I loved it. The best was, that you invited me this time."  
"You loved it even if there was nothing special, didn't you?"  
"Yes. Christine - I'm too tired for riddles. Please just tell me what you want to tell me?" he asked.

"It was nothing special but you liked it. The music was only pianissimo and it was nice to hear while having dinner, wasn't it? If you hear music only in fortissimo or even louder you'll be deaf in short time. Soft music can be very nice, can't it?"  
Erik smiled. She wanted to make him feel better after what she had said to him. Maybe she felt guilty and she knew how much she had hurt him and was making amends now, or maybe she was just trying to fulfill her duty as a wife? He took a deep breath. "I love you, my darling, and of course you are right - I guess it is a miracle that you are able to love me at all after everything I did. You are... an angel."

"I'm not. I guess I'm selfish and vain, that's all," she answered. Erik had no idea how to answer to that so he kept silent.

When they reached home, Erik just sat down on the couch in the livingroom. Christine went to the kitchen to make tea but when she returned with the tea she found him asleep on the couch. She smiled. Right now he lay on his stomach, his face turned to the room and she could see that he had a gentle smile on his lips. She fetched a blanket and tugged him in so he would not be cold in the night. Ugly as his face was, now he looked somewhat peaceful.  
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 _They are trying to somehow go on now. Since they are married - and divorce was close to impossible that time - they have not much choice. But if both of them try to make the best of the situation, who knows...?_


	79. Chapter 79

**Madness and Hope**

Christine didn't know where Erik spent the last few days before the 25. He came home only to sleep and he even spent the 24 somewhere else, he only came to her dressing room at the opera a few minutes before the Christmas gala. He looked tired and refused to take off his gloves. She did not question him now, she had to concentrate on the performance. The gala was something the managers had thought romantic and yes, it certainly drew the crowds - there were singers from all over the world in the opera and everyone should sing at least one Christmas carol from their homeland. Christine had to sing four, two in the first part and two at the end, placing her as the star of the evening.

"Don't you think you are missing too much of the gala?" she asked.  
Erik shook his head and touched her shoulder softly with his hand, still wearing his black gloves. "There is only one singer worth listening to," he said seriously. She did believe him. There were other singers too but he wasn't interested in them. "My darling, you will be the shining star this evening," he said and kissed her hand before she had to leave to go to the stage.

In the box the Daroga was thinking about Erik and Christine - and the Comte de Chagny who had a box at the opposite site of the auditorium. Would they ever be able to overcome their unnatural triangle? And how long before Erik would snap the next time and hurt her? The Daroga knew Erik too well - his masked friend had never been able to behave more than about two to six month before he did something really bad. In getting Christine to marry him his unfortunate friend had only succeeded in prolonging their problems, not solving them. He had a wife who loved him but loved someone else more, this other man was still not married and had not even been seen in the company of any woman - the Daroga had three mistresses that time who loved to provide him with all gossip about the upper class - so everyone wondered what the young Comte was up to. Some believed that he still had an affair with the singer Christine who was married to an old man who was seldom being seen anywhere. That was no more true than the gossip that the handsome and gentle Comte Raoul might be a bit... well, no one spoke any word. But the Daroga knew that wasn't true either. Raoul still loved Christine and they even met at least once a week to have a lengthy talk. What the Daroga could not understand was that Erik - the jealous, mad Erik - tolerated their little chats, innocent as they were.

"How's the gala?" Erik's voice startled rouse him from his thoughts. Erik still managed to sneak into the box without being seen or heard.  
"If you can't be here in time you'll have to wait for the critics in the newspaper," the Persian retorted.  
Erik sat down, took out of his cloak a small bottle of portwine and a glass.  
"You are not going to drink that now?" the Persian asked annoyed.  
"Of course I am," Erik answered grinning, "This gala is utterly boring, how am I to survive so many Christmas carols without something to dull the pain?"  
"Next time you'll be bringing a picnic basket," the Persian growled.  
Erik cocked his head as he answered: "Nice idea. I'll bring the wine, you the coffee and the cake, agreed?"

When Christine was singing, Erik was perfectly silent. He listened to her, trying to memorize her song. Then he relaxed, took a sip of his wine and turned to the Persian. "Now, where was I? Yes, our picnic. The Marriage of Figaro is coming up, with Christine as the Countess. Better for a picnic than the Magic Flute, isn't it?"  
"Erik, stop being childish, please. I want to listen to the gala," the Daroga rebuked.  
"Really? Nothing worth listening except her..."  
"Erik, just how much have you been drinking today? Your behavior is strange, even by your standards."  
"O? I didn't know I had any standards at all?" Suddenly Erik slumped in his chair and looked away. "I'm sorry. You are right, I am drunk. I... spent the last two days at the graveyard, finishing the guardian angel statue, I had to finish it before Christine would see the grave when we are to go to church tomorrow. It's all far too much to bear for me and I needed a little relieve."  
"She won't approve," the Persian said.  
"No, of course not. She'll give me that stern look and maybe refuse the good night kiss..."  
That was too much of information. The Daroga certainly did not want to know any details. He snatched the bottle away from Erik - this alone showing him that his masked friend was even more inebriated that he had thought - and told him to hold his tongue and try to get sober before the gala was over.

Christine noticed the smell of wine when Erik waited for her at the sidedoor. "Erik, did you drink?" she asked angrily. She knew how he was when he was drunk and did not like it.

"Yes, a little bit to get warmed up," he answered with what he considered a white-lie, "Don't worry, I'll behave. And we go to church tomorrow morning, then we celebrate at home. I'm sorry, we forgot to invite any guests on such short notice..."

"No, that's okay. I... I can't invite Mama Valerius and I'm afraid we better not visit her. She... she's so forgetful. I visited her a few days ago and she mistook me for her mother," Christine explained, "I'm not sure what she would think of you... No offense..."  
"None taken," Erik said calmly. Now he regretted drinking so much wine, his thinking wasn't as quick as usual. "If she mistook YOU for her mother she might mistake me for the Grim Reaper," he growled. He didn't mean it to sound that angry, he was trying to make a joke but it went completely wrong. Maybe his annoying example of virtue of a friend had been right - it had been too much wine, definitely.

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 _I don't know why but I always write Christmas-stories in summer..._


	80. Chapter 80

**Madness and Hope**

The next morning when Christine woke she saw that Erik had left her breakfast as usual on her night table. He was not at home. But surely he would not work on the 25th December? There was a note that he would meet her at church that day, there was something he had to do this morning. What did he have to do other than get over the hangover he surely suffered?

When she got to the church, Erik was already at his usual hiding place behind the column. As usual he wore his mask, but this time nearly no one realized that for he had covered most of it with a scarf, his collar turned up, so he looked just like all the other people covering from the cold. She understood why Erik regarded winter as his favorite season. She sat down beside him and he smiled at her. She could only see his eyes but he had a certain way to let his smile show in his eyes if he wanted to. Odd, what little signals one can pick up if they spend enough time in each others company.

The mass wasn't as bad for Christine as she had feared. Of course she had to think of the child she could have had but she thought of him as an angel now - maybe he was happy. She still could not even think of him with his name, he was just 'he'.

After mass Erik just went to the graveyard, without any word. She could follow him or not as she liked. Then she saw the grave. It was beneath a huge tree. There was no headstone, just a marble guardian angel. When she stood before the statue she realized just how much this one resembled her - it was maybe the best Erik had done. But this angel was different: It was an androgynous angel with her face and her curls, it wielded a sword in each hand and the wings did not look like the wings of a swan like the other angel statues he had done - this one had the wings of a falcon and they were spread widely. It looked like it had been captured in motion, it looked like it might come alive any moment now and fight. The look on the face of the statue was a grim determination, the blades of the swords and the wings ready for a fight as if this angel was about to face all legions of hell at once - and take them down singlehandedly.

She looked at Erik who lovingly removed a bit of snow from the angel's head. "It's lovely," she said and laid her gloved hand onto his arm.  
He nodded. "Thank you," he said simply. Then she noticed the quiet tears on his face and the mask, turning slowly to ice. He grieved for the loss of his child. They just stood there, together, holding on to each other in their mutual grief. Christine was the one to recover first.

"The statue..." she said softly.  
"You gave me that look once - this grim determination to go to battle and leaving no doubt that you would win it. I... I wanted to do this one for my own grave, but not his..." His voice broke and he coughed.  
"Let's go home, it's so cold," she suggested and wondered just how old Erik was. He looked like a very old man now, fragile, helpless. She knew this wasn't true, he still possessed that frightening strength, but now as he walked beside her, leaning on his cane, she feared he might fall any moment now and she felt the urge to support him somehow.

When they reached their home, Erik suddenly seemed to shake off many years and moved graceful like a young man. He build a fire in the stove, then went to the kitchen to get hot wine punch and a cake for them. He put it down on the coffee table in the livingroom. They did not have a normal table in the livingroom for they needed the space for the grand piano.  
"Wine punch before lunch?" Christine asked seemingly disapproving but something in her voice told him she loved it.  
"And this," he said and got a small parcel out of nowhere before handing it to her.  
"May I open it?" she asked and he nodded, studying her features. She opened it and saw a huge golden ring with a dark blue sapphire bordered in diamonds. Her jaw dropped. He could never afford such jewels!  
"Don't worry, I didn't steal it," Erik said, "I nearly paid for it with my own life."  
She tried to put it on her fingers and found it was far too large - she could only wear it on her thumb. She smiled at Erik.  
"I always thought this one as the most precious for it reminds me of a miracle that saved me from certain death," Erik said, "And I want it to be yours, as my life is yours already."

Christine smiled. "I have a gift for you as well, but it is not nearly that valuable."  
"O, but it is," Erik replied softly, lovingly, "It will be far more valuable than everything else because it comes from you."  
She got up and fetched a small parcel she had hidden in her room - but she suspected he might have eventually found it and only hoped he hadn't opened it to satisfy his curiosity. If he had, she would never know. In fact, he hadn't. Not because he didn't know she was hiding a gift or was respecting her privacy, no, he simply had had no time.

So Erik was looking like a boy who can't wait to get his gift, he was playing with his wedding ring. Better than nail-biting or scratching himself sore. Christine handed him the parcel with a smile and he opened it carefully as if the paper was something valuable and he was afraid of destroying it. When he opened it he found a fountain pen. It was black and decorated with a clef and notes engraved in gold. Erik recognized the notes at once - it was the melody he had written for her and played for her on his harp.

"I thought you might need it when you are composing," she said with a smile. He reached out for her but stopped himself before he touched her. Then he asked shyly if he was allowed to get an extra kiss that day. "Yes, of course," she laughed.

When he softly embraced her and kissed her, she felt the raw spots at his hands. Worriedly she took them in her hands and stared at them. Now she knew why he hadn't removed his gloves the day before - his hands were raw and sore from work, he must have finished the statue only the day before. He withdrew his hands from her touch and hid them behind his back.

"No please, let me tend to you," she said with an encouraging smile, "Then we sit down, have our hot wine punch and cake and you tell me how you got that ring. I love it when you tell me stories."  
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	81. Chapter 81

**Madness and Hope**

They sat on the couch, the steaming wine punch on the coffee table, and Christine softly cleaned Erik's hands with a wet cloth, then dried them softly and started to massage them with salve. She looked up and saw that Erik's head leaned back against the couch, his eyes closed. She could tell that he was relaxed and enjoying her soft touch, she was sure he was smiling.

"Now, tell me the story," she asked as she started to rub the salve gently on his thumb of his left hand. There was a sore spot between thumb and first finger. She noted just how short his nails were - when she had seen his hands the first time she had thought this due to the fact that he needed them that way to play piano and violin but now she knew that he was biting his nails when he was nervous.

"I was working for the Shah of Persia... I told you I was even an assassin. That was one of my most difficult... jobs... I had to do. I was after a murderer, another assassin who had tried to kill the Shah and had not succeeded. But the Daroga found who that was and he was too dangerous to let him live so I was assigned the job of... u... solving the problem. What I did not know at that time was, that while I was setting up a trap to catch him, he was setting me up. The Shah had never been his target, I was the one he was hired to kill, but neither the Daroga nor I knew it at that time."

"The Elburs Mountains are beautiful, very beautiful. Green, woods, rich woods - I always loved them. But they might be dangerous too, there are wolves, bears, leopards. Well, we hunted that assassin, thinking he was alone. There was the Daroga with his soldiers, some of them had dogs to find his track, and I was there mainly to ensure the murderer would confess and tell us who his client was, we needed to eliminate that man, not only the pawn. I have to confess that I was careless that time. I always hated to stay close to other men and when I needed to... um... do what is best done in private, I left them. The Daroga warned me but I did not listen."

Erik opened his eyes to watch Christine who still massaged his hands. "That was exactly the opportunity he had been waiting for - to attack me when I was most vulnerable. I had been hiding in undergrowth so he could not shoot me - but since I was, um, otherwise occupied so to say, he attacked me. I could tell you now that I put up a glorious fight but that would be a lie. I somehow managed to kick away my discarded trousers so I wouldn't be tangled and fall."

Christine looked up an him, her eyes went wide. She could not imagine Erik putting up a fight being half-naked. He smiled at her. Obviously he did not regard this as a shameful experience but rather funny. Erik being able to laugh at one of his misfortunes. That was rare. She let go of his hand and took her cup to take a sip. The wine punch was very strong.

Erik took a sip before he continued: "I was armed with my lasso, but throwing a lasso in thick forest is useless. I had to use my sabre. I had a short sabre, but to hit someone I had to find him. It was a moonless night, it was dark and we were deep in the forest. I cursed my modesty that night for I had wandered far off into the woods and no one would find me by chance - only if I called for help. But calling for help would give away my position since he could not see me as well. I tried to retreat to the lair but in escaping his attack I had completely lost the way. He had the advantage, so I had to stay put and wait. I barely dared to breathe, listening to every noise of the woods. Sometimes I thought I would see something, but then I could not be sure enough to launch an attack for if I tried and it was just a bush I would give my position away again - and this time he would not fail to kill me."

Erik looked up and grimaced. "I think I made that far too strong. You... o, you already emptied your cup. Kudos!" She grinned at him. He had not thought her capable of drinking that punch. He must have taken double the amount of rum, obviously forgetting he had already poured rum in. She felt the effect of the strong liquor, it was warming her up.

Christine asked: "So you were there - hiding in a bush without your pants and what was the assassin doing?"  
"The very same. He knew how dangerous I was and also decided to stay put - a clear stalemate until an uninvited player joined our game. It was a bear."  
"A bear?"  
"Yes, one of the small bears they have there. He was not even hunting, just strolling by, but he sniffed something the assassin had with him and attacked. Only then did I see just how close they were, maybe two meters away from me," Erik chuckled, "And I was still half-naked and had no idea where my trousers were." He drained the cup, then refilled both cups. "Not so bad, I might add the extra rum to the recipe."

Christine could not decide if she should laugh at the situation Erik had just described or if she should find it frightening. Erik obviously found his story even more funny, for his eyes sparkled as he took a piece of cake and nibbled on it. Christine decided to try the cake.

"You like it?" Erik asked, pointing to the cake.  
"O yes, that's very good. Did you make it yourself?"  
"No, I only bought it."

Erik smiled at her and went on with the story. "The bear wasn't after flesh, otherwise he would have killed both of us, the bear was after something sweet the assassin had had in his food supplies in a bag. The bear stripped his clothes away to get the bag and then left him injured."

"No... you are making this up," Christine laughed, "Something like that can't happen."  
"I assure you it is the truth. Now we were there - I without trousers and he without coat and shirt. But he was injured and now that I knew were he was I attacked him, grabbed his throat and tried to strangle him with my bare hands. He put up quite a fight, until he passed out - and the bear was nearby, eating his food supply."

"If the bear now attacks you I know for sure that you are making this up," Christine grinned.  
Erik laughed. "Why do you think I am making this up? If I am telling a lie it would be far more convincing."  
"Okay. What happened next?"  
Erik thought of it, then he said: "The bear pooped." He chuckled. In retrospect it was just too funny. Of course back then he had been frightened to death.  
Christine burst into laughter. "The bear... the bear... ha! he just..." She could not stop her fit of laughter.

"Then I heard voices calling my name and saw the faint glimmer of torches. It was the Daroga and some of his men and they had the hounds with them. I was so scared, I just ran up to them, crying with relief that I was save now. You should have seen the Daroga's face when I approached them! That was when I noticed that I still had no trousers. First the soldiers laughed at me, but then the hounds went after the bear and the bear fought back. The assassin came to his senses and tried to run, but he was caught between the dogs, the bear and the soldiers. And somewhere in that utter chaos was I, staring at the assassin, for only now I realized that 'he' was a 'she'."

"You can't imagine the Daroga's face as he stared at me, still without trousers, the women in men's clothes that were torn by the bears claws and the hounds fighting the bear," Erik laughed.  
"If I ask the Daroga, would he confirm that story?" Christine asked, still not believing what Erik was telling her. The story was far too good to be true.  
"Go ahead and ask him," Erik answered, then he went on: "Well, I don't really recall how we got back to our lair, we had lost three dogs but that didn't matter. My first problem was to convince the others that the woman really was the assassin. They did not believe that a woman can be an assassin at all. I have to admit that I wasn't sure myself when I woke the next day. You know in daylight everything looks very different than in the night. But when we stripped her we found so many hidden weapons on her, and even more in the wood where the fight had happened, there was no doubt we had the culprit."

"You stripped her?" Christine asked disgusted.  
Erik shrugged. "She was an assassin, what did you think we would do? Let her keep her weapons?" He shook his head. "Now, allow me please to leave the nasty part of the story. Just so much - she was such a brave woman, I had never had that much trouble getting answers out of any man. She revealed the plan - they had been three of them, hunting me. One had faked an attempt on the Shah's life to lure me out, then led us to the mountains. They had split up to set the trap, counting on my well known habit to leave my travelling companions every so often to seek my privacy, no one else would behave that careless. Now the two other assassins were out of reach and we knew for sure that it must have been an insider from the Shah's court to have orchestrated the plot."

"Did she tell you the name?" Christine asked.  
"No. I have to admire her fortitude. What gave him away was this ring we found in the woods. She had had it on her, somewhere in the bag the bear had torn to pieces. Of course the bear only wanted the sweets and had left the ring. The ring I gave you. Then we started with our counter-attack. It was pronounced that I was badly injured and on the verge of death, while I had suffered only scratches. It took weeks until the Daroga had found out who this beautiful sapphire belonged to. One of the... um... I'm not sure how to translate that... advisers of the Shah had been it's previous owner. Since we knew that the ring had been the prepayment it must have come from the man who wanted me dead. That was my conclusion, my mistrustful Daroga just said that this might be a scheme to blame him for someone else's crime."

Erik drained his second cup of wine punch, which was now only lukewarm. He felt slightly lightheaded. "I shouldn't have made this that strong," he muttered, "I... u..." he shook his head in an attempt to think clearly. Then he looked at Christine who was dozing off herself. "Maybe we both need a nap right now... oh, it's not even noon..."

"I want to know if you found him?" Christine yawned, "I couldn't sleep if I don't know it."  
Erik smiled. He could not help but feeling closer to her now. Somehow he did no longer care if she loved that young man more than him because she was with him now, she was his, and she would be his for the rest of his life. He loved her and she was so beautiful when she smiled. To make her smile again felt like the greatest victory in his life.

"Well, then I better tell you the short version. The Daroga had been right and I had been wrong. It was another one of the Shah's advisers and I have to admit that I have no idea how the Daroga ever found out - really no idea at all."

"I can imagine that he got punished," Christine said, not wanting to know the details.  
"Exactly. And the rightful owner of that ring told me to keep it for the Daroga had told him that it had been me who cleared his reputation though I only played a small part in it."

Christine tried to get that last sentence right. She too felt the effects of the wine punch.

"But I that was not the end of the story," Erik said, smiling to himself, "I think I saw that bear again, although my memory may be deceiving me. I was out there just for fun with the Daroga - o how we loved these trips to the mountains, just the two of us getting away from the court and the scheming and the politics to enjoy the beautiful landscape, the woods, the fresh air... Well, we were out there when the Shah was on a hunting trip. I saw that they were after a bear and I thought it might be the bear that saved me. I... I rushed back to the camp and took all the cherries I had brought - I have to mention that these cherries had been resting in alcohol for month to make them durable..."

"To make them durable. Aha. Only to make them durable," Christine nodded, "I do not believe you."

"Okay, I just happen to like them. Well, never mind, I took the cherries and threw them at the bear. The bear liked them too and - although a wild animal - came to me. That's when I dropped the bowl and ran. But the bear ate all the cherries and was drunk. So when the Shah and the hunters came close, they found the bear dancing around and me sitting by as if the bear was a pet of mine. Of course I kept my distance from the bear - it was still a wild animal and could kill me. But the hunters did not notice that. The Shah was laughing when he saw me seemingly taming a wild bear easily and decided to spare it."

"A very nice story," Christine said with a yawn, "Now tell me - if I ask the Daroga, would he confirm it?"  
"Well... in some parts yes and in some not," Erik confessed, his eyes sparkling, "But it is a very good adventure-story, isn't it? Maybe I should write a book sometimes."  
Suddenly Christine's eyes sparkled with delight as she teased him: "Yes, and the title might be 'Baron of Lies'..."

"What a clever girl you are! But it is true that the bear saved me and I got the ring in this adventure. The rest... well, the good Daroga's memory isn't as good as it has been once..."

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 _Erik got a bit carried away with his own story... I assume that is how Erik tells stories: He starts with a real experience and then watches his audience and alters the story so it fits his audience's taste. And of course he does not lie, maybe the Daroga is getting old and his memory isn't that good any more... ;-)_


	82. Chapter 82

**Madness and Hope**

The two days of Christmas that year were a constant drift between happiness and sadness for both Erik and Christine because they spent so much time together and Christmas was a constant reminder of the child they did not have. Somehow Erik felt that their mutual grief brought them closer together than they had ever been before. Now they shared something no one else had any access to - he only wished it would have been a living child and not a dead one. But both of them tried their best to cheer each other up, and in the end both of them succeeded.

When they had finished their dinner at the 26. December, Erik turned to Christine and produced a flower made of cut glass seemingly out of the air. "This was the first Christmas I had in my life, and I thank you for it," he said seriously, handing her the crystal flower. She took it, turning it round in her hands. "It's only glass," Erik said awkwardly, ashamed that it was just a trinket, nothing more.  
"It is beautiful, thank you," Christine answered, "I like it very much." Then she looked at him. He looked changed. He wasn't wearing a suit as usual but a warm cardigan, that wasn't even black or grey but green. She could not remember him wearing something casual but right now he did. He did not wear his elegant trousers but casual brown woolen trousers. He didn't even wear his black shoes but brown slippers. The only thing he could not deny himself was his mask and this one was fawn, not white or black.

"What? Stop staring at me!" Erik snapped irritated. He hated being stared at, even by his Christine. She smiled and did not look away. "What is it? What have I done wrong now? Stop staring, will you?" Erik hissed embarrassed.  
Christine answered kindly, she knew he didn't mean to be rude: "I've never seen you dressed that casual. I didn't even know you had anything casual."  
Erik looked at his clothes, then started to pluck at them nervously. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend you... I just... Um... I was a bit cold and..."  
"No need to apologize!" Christine laughed and put her hand on his breast, "It is the first time I see you like that, that's all. It is okay, you are at home and have every right to relax. I like to see you like that, you're less... intimidating that way, it makes you more... human."

"And... is that good or bad?" Erik asked, uncertain what she wanted to tell him.  
"Why, that's good Erik. YOU wanted to be normal, now you at least dress like a normal husband would do at home. Thank you for trusting me at last."  
"Trusting you?"  
Christine went to the piano and sat down at the piano stool. "Well, when you dressed so formal even when you were at home I wasn't sure if you used your clothes as a barrier against everyone else - including me. Now you do not try to impress me, you're relaxed, you behave normally. I like that."  
She started to play something. She mainly hit the right keys but the tempi were far off.

Erik winced, but he said nothing. Was she deliberately teasing him or did she really not know how to play this? He went to the stove and build a fire. He didn't like coldness. Then he went to the kitchen to make some tea, finally he came back with two cups of tea and placed them on the piano. Christine stared at him in shock - she had never guessed he would place something on his beloved piano, much less two teacups. Erik didn't notice, he just sat down beside her and rested his hands on the keys.

"Now watch me, my darling. The way you hold your hands you only get a cramp if playing longer. Relax. And..."  
"I just wanted to play a Christmas carol, Erik, I don't want to become a pianist. I'm just playing for fun," she sighed.

"And I am only giving you a lesson for fun," Erik replied, "Now, your hands please..."  
Suddenly Christine realized what he was doing - he didn't mind the piano lesson, it didn't matter to him at all, he had an excuse to sit at her side, so close to her their shoulders were touching. When he sat there, playing the same tune she had just played but he did it correctly, she noticed that his touch was warm. Her eyes traveled from his hands to his shoulders to his body and she noticed to her delight that he had gained some weight, it was obvious that his stomach wasn't as flat as it used to be. She giggled.

"What? What's so funny now?" Erik asked, irritated that she refused to accept his teaching.  
"You're no skeleton any more," she giggled, "You are becoming soft."  
He stood up and turned away from her, embarrassed.  
"Erik, don't!" Christine reached out for him. "I like it. It's an improvement. Really. Please... sit down again, I want to become a pianist now. I want to learn how to play the piano so we can play together, you with the violin and I with the piano, or we could play four-handed."

Erik shook his head slightly, smiling. "You changed your mind again, darling. Well, your wish..." he bowed deeply before her, which didn't look as elegant since he wasn't wearing a suit and cape but a green cardigan, brown trousers and slippers "...is my command."

It was back to work for both of them the next day, Christine had to go to the rehearsals for the New Years gala and Erik had much work to do since the deadline 'last day of the year' was suddenly very close at hand. He had to work up to sixteen hours a day for he could not risk being caught in another violation of the disciplinary code. At least he was able to concentrate on his work and do it properly.


	83. Chapter 83

**Madness and Hope**

On the 31. December Christine received an invitation to a New Years celebration. Raoul de Chagny was to host a party and officially invited Madame and Monsieur Davisseau. Why would he invite Erik as well? Maybe he knew perfectly well that Erik would never dare to actually go there.

But Christine was tempted to go there without telling Erik. She knew Erik would come home late that day so she would be gone when he returned - but then she decided not to. She would not cheat on him. Never, she wasn't that sort of a woman. That, and she was afraid of his reaction if he found out - and he would find out for sure for he expected her to be at home when he would return from his work.

So she just waited for him to come home.

It was a bit after ten o'clock in the evening when Erik finally came home - it was very cold outside and snowing and he was drenched. He just let his coat and hat slide to the floor and went to the stove to build a fire. Christine felt slightly guilty that she hadn't done that but waited for him to do the work himself. Obviously he hadn't noticed her sitting at the couch, he sat down on the floor in front of the stove, resting his head in his hands, slumped over. He looked so very old in that moment.

"Erik? Are you okay?" Christine asked worriedly.  
Erik nearly jumped to his feet in alarm. "O, I'm sorry, I... I didn't see you. Good evening, my darling. How was your rehearsal today? Will the gala tomorrow be okay?"

"Yes, the rehearsal for the gala has been alright. But I was worried, did you work that long today?"  
"I had to," Erik ran a hand over his head, then sat down at the couch and massaged his temples. He was tired and had a terrible headache. "I had so many deadlines with the last day of the year and I was so far behind... You know there will be an evaluation in January and I have to admit that I barely met the targets. The last year has been quite rough and there were too many times I wasn't able to concentrate on my work."

"I suppose you don't want to go to a New Years celebration tonight?" Christine asked.  
"God, no!" Erik moaned, "I just want a hot soup and then go to sleep. I'm glad no one would ever invite ME."  
"Actually - I got an invitation for Madame and Monsieur Davisseau," Christine said softly, "But the party begun at 10, but it will last until 3 or maybe longer."  
"I understand why you are invited, but me?"  
Christine just handed him the card.

If he wasn't that tired Erik certainly would have thrown a terrible temper tantrum, but now his headache prevented him from any shouting. So he just said sternly: "No. As your singing teacher I have to forbid it. You can't spend one hour in that terrible snowstorm in a carriage, then four hours at a party where you will get too hot and then sit one hour in a carriage in the coldness of this night. You have to sing tomorrow at 10 in the morning at the New Year gala."  
Christine raised her eyebrows skeptically: "Aha. As my teacher. ONLY as my teacher?"  
"Of course!" Erik sighed, "I am only worried about your voice."  
"Really?"  
"Um... no. I suspect the Comte is setting up a trap and I refuse to walk into it. But what I said is true - better we stay at home and go to bed early."

Erik got up and went to the kitchen to prepare the soup. Christine went after him.  
"Why don't you allow me to cook?" Christine asked.  
Erik laughed. "Because, my darling, every time you try to cook it turns out to be scrambled eggs and right now I'd prefer a soup."  
Christine feigned to be offended. "Then why don't you teach me?"  
"Please, I'm tired, I have a terrible headache and I have no patience to discuss anything right now."

"No celebration at all?" Christine asked disappointed.

"Sometimes you are a really spoiled child," Erik teased and shook his head, "I suppose a glass of wine and a toast to the new year would be okay. But you won't get me to stay up until midnight."

Somehow the hot soup and the red wine helped Erik's headache and he was better when it was close to midnight.  
"I'm sorry I was that grumpy earlier," he said, "Of course I like to celebrate with you. Of course I'd love to spend more time with you, but please understand that I have to work - I'm not a rich man and I have to earn our livelihood. I hope you do not feel neglected?"  
Christine laughed. "Not at all! You certainly do your best!"  
Erik looked at her sadly, then at the glass of wine in his hand. "But it is not enough, isn't it? I will never be good enough for you."

"Erik, can you please spare us your self-loathing and your self-pity?" Christine rebuked him, "The old year is nearly over. The past is the past. The last year has been horrible for both of us and I'd prefer to leave it behind and look at the future."  
"You think the future is brighter?" Erik asked, suddenly given new hope.  
"Yes, I do think so," Christine said, raising her glass: "To the future!"  
"To the future," Erik agreed. That moment midnight stroke.

Christine grinned at him victoriously: "And I made you stay up for midnight!"

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	84. Chapter 84

**Madness and Hope**

The gala the next day went well, although the audience wasn't enthusiastic and more than enough of them simply fell asleep.

"Any New Years resolutions?" the Daroga asked sardonically.  
Erik glared at him. The Daroga knew very well that Erik never had any good resolutions and certainly not only because it was a new year. To Erik the year was not important.  
"You should make some - maybe it will help you," the Daroga continued.  
"You mean like: This year I'm not going to kill the most annoying Persian dolt in Paris?" Erik answered angrily.  
The Daroga's answer was seemingly serious: "For a start. Maybe you should extend it to not murdering anyone."

"A no. I used that one far too often, I think it's used up and I'll have to throw it away," Erik retorted. He might come to like this banter. "Any good resolutions yourself?"

"Yes, actually I do," the Persian replied happily.  
"Care to tell me?"  
"Why, of course. I always pick some that are easily kept," the Daroga said, smiling, "This year I plan not to drink alcohol."  
Erik grinned as he answered: "Very well, then I plan to be faithful to my wife."  
"You think that is easy?" the Daroga asked, his eyebrows raised.  
Erik shrugged. "For want of opportunity," he answered, but both men knew he didn't mean it like that. If any man knew to appreciate that he was married it was Erik.

"I have another one for you," the Persian suggested, "Not to hurt your wife."  
"Ouch!" Erik rolled his eyes, "And I have one for you - Stay out of this, whatever it may be."  
"Ha! I didn't know you were a joker!"  
"O but I am," Erik answered smoothly, "Or did you forget how often I made the sultana laugh?"

The Daroga suddenly had to suppress the urge to retch, he remembered all too well.

After the gala was a small party at the opera. Christine got herself a cup of tea, she didn't like champagne before noon but she was thirsty and needed something to drink.  
"Madame," Raoul said, bowing to her and kissing her hand lightly, "You were superb. Absolutely wonderful."  
"Thank you," Christine said, "And my best wishes for the new year."  
"May I ask if you got the invitation to my little celebration?" Raoul asked.

"Yes, I did and I'm really sorry I could not come to you. It was a very cold night and we were afraid I might not be able to sing this morning if I attended to your party. I can't risk catching a cold in the night before a gala," Christine explained, smiling.  
"I understand. But was that really your decision or did he forbid it?"  
"Actually... his. But it was in my best interest," Christine admitted, then asked: "Why did you invite him as well? Erik is quite paranoid that you would set up a trap for him."

"Trap?" Raoul laughed, "In my own home at a party I am hosting? Of course not! The scandal would damage my reputation. In fact I counted on him not to come, but I wouldn't commit the incivility of inviting a woman without her husband. There are enough rumors about us. You know they still think I was your lover and that ugly old husband of yours is senile and does not notice anything?"  
Christine shook her head and shrugged. "Let them talk. They will always have something to talk about. But Erik trusts me now that I am faithful, otherwise I wouldn't be able to meet you regularly."  
"Have tea with me in a cafe," Raoul answered bitterly, "I had hoped for more."  
"Me too, but he is right, we can't afford another scandal," Christine answered, "And we can talk. You know, I can talk about everything with you, I really love that. Raoul, my dear friend Raoul, I am beginning to feel that we can be friends again and that makes me so happy."

That moment they heard someone clearing his throat behind them. They turned round and saw Erik standing there, he was in control of himself but his eyes gave away his fury. His face was hidden behind a scarf as he had just been outside in the cold.  
"I beg your pardon, Monsieur le Comte Raoul de Chagny," he said with overdone courtesy, "But might I have a word with MY wife?"  
"Erik, please, no scandal. Not now. Not on the first day of the year at the opera," Christine said.  
"A, no, no, I just wanted to know why you kept me waiting outside in the snow instead while you have a hot cup of tea with your childhood friend?" Erik asked, his voice like honey, "I was under the impression that you wanted to leave early and not stay for the party or am I already senile?"  
Christine nearly dropped her teacup. "O Erik, I am so sorry! I... I just wanted to drink some tea and really forgot about you."  
Erik's eyes grew cold, Christine shuddered under his icy gaze as if she had been bathed in snow. "I see. You already forget that you have a husband," he commended, his voice like acid.

"Monsieur, I assure you, we just had tea," Raoul cut in, "Nothing happened."  
"I didn't talk to you, insolent glamour boy!" Erik snapped and Christine grabbed his hand.  
"Erik, come to my dressing room, let's discuss this there and not here in public!" she begged desperately, "The last thing we all need is another scandal."  
Erik nodded, he could agree with that but he wasn't sure if he would not hurt her. "I'll just get the Daroga. Wait for me in your dressing room and you, Monsieur le Comte, stay away from her dressing room, is that understood?"  
They both nodded, too frightened by Erik's rage to defy him now.

"Whom does he call?" Raoul asked, confused.  
"His friend, the Persian. Obviously Erik does not trust himself right now and get's someone to watch him," Christine explained, "Raoul, please don't interfere now, you'll only make things worse. This time it was really my fault, I shouldn't have kept him waiting."

The Daroga was already on his way home when Erik caught up with him and asked him to come back to the opera. "Why? What happened?" the Persian asked irritated.  
"I need to have a discussion with Christine and I want you to hold me back if I do something stupid," Erik answered, a bit out of breath.  
The Daroga shook his head. "Erik, you are not a child. It is time you realize that you should..."  
"Spare me the telling-off and just come!" Erik hissed, he was still angry. Logic wasn't very high on his list right now.

By the time the two men had reached Christine's dressing room and entered through the mirror Erik was much calmer. He build himself up and crossed his arms before his breast. "Now, my darling wife, I want to hear your excuses," he said sternly.  
Christine glanced at the Persian. "Is that really necessary to have your friend here when we are having a marital quarrel?" she asked.  
"For your safety - yes," Erik replied, "Come on, I'm waiting!"  
"Erik, I am really sorry. I planned to leave after the gala and not attend to the party but my throat was parched and I wanted a tea. Then I met Raoul and we were just talking and then you were there. I didn't keep you waiting that long, but I have to admit, I should not have kept you waiting at all. I am very sorry."

Erik exhaled, then relaxed visibly. "I'm sorry I created such a scene. You are right, it wasn't that long, it just felt long. I did not want to start the new year with a quarrel. Can we... just pretend it didn't happen?" he asked, suddenly his voice soft and even shy.  
Christine actually smiled at him. "O Erik, sometimes you are a bit childish, do you know that?"  
"Childish? I am childish? Daroga, when have I ever been childish?" Erik asked mockingly, "My wife calls me childish!"  
The Persian laughed: "Let me see... right now? Nearly every day?"

"O yes, you two stick together against me!" Erik complained, but the amused sparkle in his eyes betrayed his real feelings, "Always picking at the one who can't defend himself."  
"Seriously, Erik, I think you did quite well," Christine said, "You didn't work yourself into a rage and did nothing you have to regret now. I rather think this is quite a good start for a new year."  
Erik gently kissed her hands, then pressed them against his breast, smiling lovingly at her. "You truly are an angel," he whispered.

The Daroga coughed awkwardly. Obviously they had already forgotten he was there, because Erik jumped and nearly tipped over the chair. "I think I leave you two now," the Persian said, "I better take the secret passageway, I don't want to be part of another scandal!"

There was an awkward silence between Erik and Christine after the Daroga had left them. Erik did not know what to do. He knew Christine had wanted to start the year happily and he had nearly ruined it. He was ashamed that he had not been able to deal with the situation like an adult but had reacted rather childish.

On their way home Christine saw a few children in a snowball fight. She stopped to watch them for a while, Erik kept his distance, he wanted to go home. Then he saw Christine bending down and forming a snowball of her own and hiding it behind her back. Erik smiled to himself behind his scarf that covered his face. She obviously wanted to play a prank on him and thought he didn't notice. He decided to play along and turned as if he was going home.

She caught up with him and pushed the snowball in his collar at the neck. "Ieeeek!" he cried out and spun round, grabbing her wrist. Then he looked at her face, her cheeks reddened by the cold, she was grinning at him.  
"Gotcha!" she giggled.

Erik couldn't help but laugh. "Now who is being childish?" he asked, still laughing, "Come on, let's go home." She took his arm, still grinning happily.

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 _Poor Daroga - first Erik tells him to stay out of everything and then he asks him to act as his conscience again. Erik still does not trust himself to behave, but he is working out some way to stop himself from hurting Christine. Does that count as improvement?_


	85. Chapter 85

**Madness and Hope**

The managers of the opera announced that there would be a masked ball at the end of January. When Christine came home to tell Erik about it, she found him sitting in the livingroom, working on a red bolero jacket. He looked up at her in surprise: "O, you are here already? I had hoped this to be a surprise for you..."

"What is it?" she asked, not knowing if she should be happy or worried.  
"A costume for the masked ball. I really want to go there with you, it is the only ball in Paris I can attend to. And I really want to have at least one dance with you," Erik explained, then showed her the bolero jacket and a red dress. He had even stitched a red mask for her.  
Christine took the jacket and tried it. It was a bit too large and she felt something at her shoulder.  
Erik took a metal strawberry and placed it on her shoulder. She felt a light tucking at the fabric and as she moved her arms the strawberry started moving at her shoulders. "Erik, what is this?" she asked bewildered.  
Erik chuckled. "A magnet on a fishing line. The fishing line is in the sleeves and you see the two red pearls hanging from your sleeves. These are the ends of the fishing line. You can let the magnet that's in the jacket move on your shoulders or up and down the sleeves. Be careful not to lose the strawberry, I have only this one." He took it off her jacket and placed it on the piano.

"So I'm going to be a red strawberry," Christine was torn between embracing him and thanking him and rebuking him for his patronizing.  
Erik nodded. "You are to be a strawberry fairy and I have a costume that works similar, the Lizard King."  
"Lizard King?" Christine asked bewildered.  
"Just a tight fitting green suit with a metal lizard instead of your strawberry," Erik explained happily.  
"You really applied a lot of effort with these costumes, didn't you?" Christine asked, smiling.  
"No, I bought the dress and the suit - I did just the masks and the little magnets. You should practice with the magnet so you can control it at the ball. I'm sure people will wonder how you do that. Make sure to take the strawberry off every so often and show it to your audience, watching their astonishment is very much fun. But don't tell them how it works, just say that you are the strawberry fairy and can do whatever you like. Um... I guess I am doing a bit much of talking right now, am I not? I'm just so excited that we finally have a chance go to a ball together."

Christine smiled. Erik was like a small boy now, excited to go to his first party. And he was preparing them as if they had a performance as magicians. Well, considering what he had done the last masked ball with his Red Death costume these costumes were modest. The only day in the year when Erik would be able to melt with the crowd, only by wearing a simple mask and he troubled himself to produce that outstanding costumes. Christine wondered if Erik - for all his whining how much he would love to be normal - secretly craved the attention of an audience to applaud him.

"Thank you for the costume," she said simply.  
"You like it?" Erik asked a bit worried.  
"Yes, of course. But... I would have loved it more if you had asked my opinion before you made it," she answered, she simply had to tell him for she would have preferred something not so pretentious. She saw the flash of disappointment and fury in his eyes, then he lowered his head so she couldn't see his eyes any longer. "Erik, I love it. I really do and I will be happy to wear it at the ball. Maybe I chose the wrong words... I didn't mean to hurt you."  
"But Erik has done something wrong again," he grumbled and she wasn't sure if he was angry at her or at himself.  
Christine sighed. Living with Erik wasn't easy. "No, you did nothing wrong. I like that costume. Really. I just thought that it would be nice if you asked my opinion instead of presenting me with fait accompli."  
Erik's head jerked up again and he stared at her, obviously trying to understand her. Then he answered: "I'm sorry. I didn't want to trouble you with something as unimportant as a costume. I didn't mean to offend you, its just too unimportant to bother you. In important matters I'll always ask you, I promise."  
Christine thought that it was still a questionable promise as long as he was the one to decide what was important and what not. But then - he was right. He was her husband and had every right to make any decision for her or revoke all her promises. If he wanted to he could even cancel her contract with the opera. She had vowed to obey him, he was her husband.

Christine wanted to soothe him and gently touched his mask, pulling it down a bit to reveal his forehead. Then she kissed him on the forehead and pulled the mask back in its place.  
"Thank you," Erik sighed, he would never tire of these gentle touches and surely never took them for granted. A kiss was something very precious to Erik, even now that she allowed him to kiss her almost every evening - except when she was angry with him. Not kissing him was a severe punishment to him and she knew that very well so she wouldn't use it lightly. An extra kiss was a precious reward for him. Sometimes it was so very easy to please him and make him happy.

Erik got up and asked her to try the whole costume while he would prepare their dinner. When Christine got dressed she found the red dress perfectly fitting as well as the red mask. She could hear Erik singing a song in the kitchen while he was cooking, that showed her just how happy he was now. He was singing a popular tune she heard on every street nowadays but the way he sang it it sounded like a beautiful aria. She had no idea how he did this, completely without any effort. He just picked up some tune and made it into something beautiful. As if he would pick up mud from the floor and transformed it into a gem.


	86. Chapter 86

**Madness and Hope**

Christine felt wonderful as she went to the masked ball at the opera. Erik was at her side and she had to admit that his costume was magnificent - a green silk suit with a green mask and a green hat. A golden glittering lizard seemingly running around on his shoulders, on his arms. As much as she had practiced, she couldn't move her strawberry the way he moved the lizard, making it look alive. Erik looked even more gaunt in that tight fitting suit than in his usual suits which were a bit loose on him, but she noticed that he had developed a bit of a tummy. It was only visible when he sat down, but she liked him softening a bit. With this costume he looked quite normal, very thin but there were dancers who were gaunt as well - at least as long as one would forget the face beneath the mask.

It was the usual hubbub like every year - most of the singers and dancers and musicians wore masks, most of the patrons too. It was unusual for a member of the high society to wear a mask but some did so nevertheless, hoping for a little adventure when no one would recognize them.

To Christine's astonishment Erik didn't stay out of the turmoil as he usually did but threw himself right in. In mere minutes he had gathered a small audience of mostly women he entertained with his lizard trick and a few other tricks like producing a flower out of thin air and handing it to Christine and some pickpocket tricks - of course he gave the jewels he had taken back, but Christine wondered how he could steal earrings, necklaces and even glasses and no one noticed even if all eyes were on him. His small audience laughed and applauded. Christine wondered what would have happened if Erik hadn't approached her as Angel of Music but on a masked ball in one of his fancy costumes. She could not believe that her Erik - the shy and reclusive man who still had problems letting his wife see his face - was actually flirting with a group of women and they were giggling and laughing and enjoying themselves. She felt a pang of jealousy and decided to spoil his fun. She just went to him and took away his lizard, giving him the strawberry instead with a sweet smile. "Darling, may I borrow your lizard for a moment?" she asked and couldn't help but grin at the astonished look at the faces of the other women and Erik's awkward stance.

"Um... I don't think the lizard looks good on red... You better stick to the strawberry," Erik replied embarrassed. He had never done this before with another person at his side. He was just behaving like he normally would at a masked ball - trying to be as entertaining and charming as he could be and making the best of the situation. In a way he was acting like he had been at the fair in Nijnii Novgorod, competing for attention of the crowds. Then it had been a mere necessity to earn money, now it was something else - he really loved the applause and the praise and he missed it so much. So he had decided that once a year he would enjoy himself. But now it turned out to be a mistake for Christine surely felt neglected.

"I'm sorry," he said softly to his wife, "May I have the pleasure of the first dance?"  
"Yes, of course," Christine answered, wondering if he could dance at all.

To her great surprise Erik could dance. He was nowhere good but given the little practice he might have she was surprised that he could dance at all.  
"Now what was that?" Christine asked as they danced.  
"Hmmm? What do you mean?" Erik asked.  
"You were shamelessly flirting with a group of women!" Christine scolded him, a bit louder than she had intended to for the other dancers suddenly stared at them. They just kept dancing, Erik leading her to one of the doors, he didn't like to get scolded in public. As soon as they were out of the room that was now the ballroom Erik led her to a small storeroom, locking the door behind them.  
"Nice start for a ball - we don't make it through the first dance without a scandal," he scoffed.  
"Erik, I was under the impression that you wanted to spend that evening with ME - and as soon as we arrive, I'm nothing but a decoration to you and you shamelessly start flirting with every skirt who doesn't run away in time!" Christine yelled at him.

Erik fell silent. He hadn't even considered that this would ever be a problem between them. And yet - she was right. He would never have tolerated her flirting with anyone else. "I am truly sorry, Christine, please forgive me," he said softly, "I didn't mean to offend you."

"Why did you start that in the first place?" Christine asked, still angry.  
"I just acted as I always do at masked balls," Erik answered, "I didn't even think about it. But you are right, I misbehaved and I am sorry. What now? Do you want to go home or do we stay?"  
"I'd rather stay," Christine said, "And I will dance with other men too and you will accept that without making a scene."  
"No fair! You dance and I am not allowed?" Erik complained.  
"Very well, dancing is allowed, but stop playing Don Juan!"

Erik opened the door a bit, then closed it again. "I'm sorry we have to wait until no one sees us. Do you realize that we are the first couple to disappear to one of the storerooms this evening?" He chuckled and Christine blushed. They had just talked but she could easily guess what the others would be thinking and her reputation was not the best one. She could only hope no one knew who the strawberry fairy was.

They split up, both needing a bit time to think. Christine was just happy that Raoul had told her before he would never go to that masked ball because right now she wasn't sure what would have happened if Erik and Raoul ran into each other by accident. She absently played with the magnet and let the strawberry wander over her arms and shoulders.  
"Mademoiselle, you have a really breathtaking costume," a man said behind her. Christine spun round, the strawberry fell to the ground and the man picked it up for her, curiously eyeing it, then giving it back to her. Christine placed it back on her shoulder an let it wander again.  
"Astonishing," the man said. He wore a simple blue mask and a blue cloak.  
"Thank you," Christine answered, she still tried to figure out who he was.

"May I ask for the next dance?" the man asked her and she agreed. When they were dancing she suddenly recognized him - he was one of the male solo dancers. She asked him and he admitted it laughing, asking her who she was.  
"Why, I'm a strawberry fairy, isn't that obvious?" she answered, not wanting to give away her identity.  
"I love strawberry..."  
Christine freed herself and took a step back. This was definitely not going in the way it was supposed to. She had wanted to dance and nothing more. So she excused herself and went to the buffet to get a glass of water. Suddenly Erik was at her side.  
"Are you okay?" he asked, worriedly, "I saw you dance and suddenly you ran away."  
"Well... obviously that dancer had mistaken me for another woman."  
"You want me to strangle him?" Erik asked.  
"Erik, NO!" Christine cried out, she knew with Erik that was not an empty offer or a joke.  
"It was a joke. Of course I wouldn't do that," Erik answered lightly - a bit too lightly for a man with his past.

As the ball went on Christine danced with different partners and she saw that Erik found dancing partners as well. Christine made sure she only danced with men she recognized and knew as trustworthy, she got much attention for her really striking costume but - contrary to Erik - she would have preferred to stay in the background. Erik on the other hand found himself the women with the worst reputation in the ballroom. He seemed to attract them like a magnet, decent women rather avoided his company. It was shortly before midnight, when Christine was invited to a glass of champagne by one of the managers.

Erik started his show again with different people watching him, most of them were women. He was charming and entertaining, flirting especially with the manager's wives. But he danced mostly with his wife and if she danced with someone else he just got a drink and stood there, watching her, ready to intervene as soon as her dancing partner would do anything she disliked. The other masked balls had been more fun to him, but right now he found he wasn't the only man watching his wife dancing with different partners while the husbands stayed at the buffet. At least he could invite his audience to drink with him - and have them pay for his drinks. He did this in such a charming way no one even noticed that he was scrounging. Some habits die hard and he really loved having these women invite him again and again.

Christine was on her way to the restrooms when she saw Erik standing in the corridor with a woman in a revealing dress. Erik obviously did not notice her, he stood with his back to her. Christine decided to listen what they were talking.

"And I told you I am not Jacques," Erik said.  
"And I am sure you are - I have seen that Lizard King costume before," the woman retorted.  
"Anyone can buy costumes," Erik replied and tried to get past her. The woman blocked his path and since he didn't want to push her away he stopped.  
"No matter what name you use now - maybe you can help me again? You see, 'Jacques' helped me get that job as chorus singer."  
"Sorry, I can't help you. If you excuse me..."

"But Monsieur Jacques! Maybe I happen to know a way to persuade you..." the woman purred in her deep contralto voice.  
"I told you I am not Jacques!" Erik's voice was somewhat husky and shaking.  
"You weren't that shy last time we met."  
"I wasn't married then," Erik replied.  
"Aha! I knew it, you ARE Jacques!" tho woman exclaimed triumphantly.  
"Monique..." Erik said a bit helpless.  
"O, suddenly you remember my name too?" she mocked.

Erik twisted his hands behind his back. This was going absolutely wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong. Where was his so called genius level intellect when he needed it? He couldn't think clearly and had involuntarily given away that he knew her. "Monique, just forget it. I can't help you prolong your contract," he said honestly, "And I am happily married and absolutely faithful to my wife."

"But Jacques - you told me you were manager of another opera house. Maybe you need a contralto?" Monique asked.  
"No"  
"And if I ask nicely?" she asked, lowering her lashes and licking her lips.  
Erik took a deep breath and tried to force himself to think of something else than their encounter a few years ago - he remembered all too well. It was tempting to take advantage of this situation. Think of camels. Think of camels in the desert. Yes, camels in a desert. Camels in a desert with veiled women... No! "No. Monique, a no is a no. Accept that and now let me pass!"  
"Your lips say no but ONLY your lips!" Monique retorted grinning, "Are you sure you are not in desperate need of a new contralto in your opera house?"

Suddenly something in Erik's mind snapped. He grabbed Monique roughly at the arms, his masked face only inches away from hers, his eyes blazing with barely controlled rage, as he threw her to the wall roughly. "Are you that eager to meet your doom? Don't you dare, woman, don't you dare stand in my way!" he snarled, then pushed her away from him and turned round, only to find himself nearly face to face with Christine.

"Chris...ti...ne" he stuttered panicked, his voice suddenly childlike, "I didn't... I wouldn't..."  
"I want you to take me home NOW!" Christine demanded icily.  
"As you wish," Erik whispered, bracing himself for the punishment that was to come.

They went to her dressing room where they had left their cloaks and hats. Christine noticed that Erik struggled to keep up with her. Usually his pace was much faster than hers, right now he was swaying on his feet and had to concentrate not to tip over.  
"How much did you drink?" Christine asked angrily. She surely hadn't counted on him getting drunk.  
"About two or three bottles of champagne," Erik mumbled, staring at his feet.

When they were on their way home Erik suddenly remembered why he had left the ballroom in the first place before Monique had recognized him as 'Jacques'. "Christine... I need to... um..." he stuttered. He couldn't bring himself to tell her that he needed to relieve himself but he needed it really badly, the pressure was close to unbearable and he wasn't sure how much longer he would be able to hold back. Three bottles of champagne turned out to be a very big mistake.  
"Can't that wait until we get home?" Christine asked embarrassed. Just how low would Erik stoop this night? Wasn't it enough that he had disgraced himself at the ball?  
"No" Erik hissed and disappeared into the shadows. Only moments later the noise told her that he was doing what he had to do. She knew Erik had no choice for he would never shame himself like this before her if he had any choice.

When he finally reappeared like a dog with his tail between his legs, he didn't dare to come close to her or even to look at her, keeping his eyes fixed to his own shoes. He was bright red with shame and didn't dare to say one word.

"Couldn't you have used the restrooms?" Christine asked reproachfully as she turned her back to him to go home.  
He followed her with his head hanging, not daring to answer, not even daring to beg for forgiveness. He just wanted to curl up and die of shame.

When they got home he tried to apologize but Christine cut in: "Not one word, Erik. Not when you are drunk. Sleep it off and woe betide you!"

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 _Now Erik made trouble for himself again and he's in a terrible mess._


	87. Chapter 87

**Madness and Hope**

That night Christine didn't sleep well. She could hear Erik running to the toilet many times, retching. But she didn't care to get up and didn't want to help him. It was his fault and he wouldn't get any sympathy from her.

The next morning when she woke up she found a very nice breakfast on her night table with fresh bread, it was still hot, jam and boiled eggs along with Turkish coffee. Erik had even placed flowers next to her night table. She rolled her eyes - Erik had surely more than enough experience in making amends. Then she heard him play the piano. He played Scandinavian songs - where had he gotten the score for Scandinavian songs? She would have enjoyed this Sunday morning much more if not for Erik's shameful behavior the night before.

After she had had breakfast she donned her dressing gown and went to the bathroom. Erik was sitting at the piano and didn't stop playing as he said "Good morning."  
Christine barely nodded and went to the bathroom to have a bath. Erik had already heated the boiler, anticipating her wish and placed her favorite bath salts next to the tub. How considerate he could be if he was ashamed. A bath accompanied with piano music. Why not enjoy it? She could always berate him later.

When she got out of the tub she made sure to make as much a mess as possible leaving much water on the floor for him to clean up. A petty revenge - but she did it nevertheless. Then she donned the dressing gown again and went back to her room, still ignoring Erik's pleading look, begging her to acknowledge him.

Only when she was properly dressed she went to the living room, this time confronting Erik.  
"Did you sleep well?" she asked.  
Erik shook his head slightly but didn't stop playing.  
"We have to talk," she said sternly.

Erik got up from the piano bench and knelt down at her feet, his head lowered, waiting for any punishment she would deem just. When she didn't say something he said in a childlike voice: "Do you want me to beg for my punishment?"

"What?" she exclaimed, taken aback.  
"My mother always forced me to beg for the whip and when I got my punishment I would have to thank her for the strokes," he said softly, "She meant well, spare the rod, spoil the child. I guess I did never get enough lashes though..."

"Erik, if you are trying to manipulate me..." Christine said, not sure what to think of this detail from his past.  
Erik shook his head: "No, of course not. I just want to get this over and done with, I want you to be happy again." A child. He was such a child now, acting in the only way he could.

"Erik, why did you disgrace yourself like that yesterday?" Christine asked.  
Erik shook his head and mumbled: "I... I acted as I always did at masked balls, except the one when I had that Red Death costume..."  
"Who is Monique?"  
"Monique is contralto in the chorus and her contract is terminated," Erik stated as a matter of fact.  
"Why did she call you Jacques?" Christine inquired.  
Erik started biting his nails. Then he answered awkwardly: "Monique is someone I took advantage of years ago. She was... inebriated to say the least and desperate for a job at the opera."  
"Did you force yourself on her?" The icy contempt in her voice made him shudder.  
"No, certainly not! I never raped any woman! Never! But I am a man after all and I took advantage of the situation and... well, she got that job... But that was all before you came to the opera! I didn't even know you existed then!"

"So you preyed on the women in the opera. I didn't know of that despicable habit of the Phantom," Christine observed.  
"I didn't!" Erik defended himself, "I only approached women at masked balls and then I never forced one to come to one of the back rooms with me. I have to admit that I told them I was manager of an opera house myself and could help them with a job - but I never, I swear it, never, forced them to do anything they wouldn't have done to any other man who could further their career. Usually they were too drunk to remember what happened, I have to admit I was surprised that Monique actually recognized me. I stopped that immediately when I got to know you because then I realized just how appalling my behaviour was. I wouldn't want anyone to take advantage of you and I realized just how despicable may misdeeds were. I am deeply ashamed of my past."

Christine shuddered in disgust. He had not raped them but he surely had taken advantage of the desperate need for a job and the inebriation of these women. That they would have slept with other men as well to get a job didn't make it any better.

"Yesterday I saw you flirting with women, entertaining them and behaving like other men would do too - why did you never try to get my attention that way? Why this sham with the Angel of Music?" Christine asked.  
Erik's answer was a complete surprise to her: "But I did! I tried once and you turned me down. And then I heard you telling Meg that you hated and despised men who tried to seduce you with promises for your career, you weren't one of those girls. You had completely mistaken my intentions and I didn't dare approach you in that way again."  
"I can't remember..." Christine said. Had she really mistaken his intentions? After what he just had confessed? She wasn't sure if she could believe him.  
"The first masked ball you attended to," Erik tried to remind her, "I had a glittering silver costume. You had that lovely blue dress and a blue hat but a white mask with cut glass applied to it. I even danced with you but when I wanted to invite you to a drink after the dance you turned me down and when I told you I was a musician myself and wanted to further your career you just walked away."  
Christine vaguely remembered a tall man in a silver costume. "That was you?" she asked astonished.  
"And it was the only masked ball that season," Erik continued sadly, "And I couldn't wait to begin teaching you. So I came up with another way to approach you for I knew you would have turned me down if I had tried to get to know you because of my face. What I did yesterday was just play acting! I acted as if I was still an entertainer at parties! I wasn't flirting or anything like that and surely I wasn't interested in one of these women. I just played a role I enjoy very much."

Christine kept silent. She could remember a man in a silver costume but she couldn't remember the conversation, she couldn't remember dancing with him. It was possible but she couldn't remember, to her it was too unimportant. To him on the other hand it was very important and he remembered all details.

Then she thought of his behavior when Monique had approached him. This was maybe the only chance for Erik to betray her and he had not. She was sure that he had been tempted but she remembered his words - he had told that woman that he was happily married and faithful.

"Tell me, Erik, is it true?" she asked.  
"What?" Now he was really confused and had no idea what she was talking about.  
"You said yesterday that you were happily married and faithful to me," she said, her voice softly, almost lovingly.  
"Yes, of course that is true! Christine... there is no need to be jealous. I would never betray you, never!"

"You like a walk in the snowy park this Sunday?" Christine asked.

"Thank you," Erik answered and she was sure he was smiling under his mask.

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 _The more Christine finds out about Erik's past, the more she dislikes it - and Erik had hoped to keep his shameful secrets._


	88. Chapter 88

**Madness and Hope**

In February Christine got good news from the managers - there was another leading role they wanted her to sing, Desdemona in Otello for her role as the Countess in "the Marriage of Figaro" had been such a success. Christine was happy for she was sure that this time getting the new role was solely her doing and not another interfering from Erik.

When she came home after the first rehearsal she found Erik had decorated the kitchen table with candles and prepared her favorite dish. He had even bothered to fold the napkins to look like flowers. It was unusual warm in the flat, Erik obviously had taken his time to prepare everything for her to be comfortable. Her favorite wine was on the shelf.

"My darling, you look radiant today!" Erik intoned in the most beautiful voice he could manage, the angel's voice. He wore his best suit and had obviously tried to make himself look as good as it was possible for him. Christine felt a bit underdressed in her grey woolen dress.

"Thank you," she said and Erik put a soft blanket on her chair and helped her to seat. Something in his behaviour made her suspicious that he had done something wrong and wanted her to be in good mood before confessing his latest misdeed.

Then she noticed that he had placed only one plate on the table. "Aren't you going to eat something?" she asked curiously.

"No, my dear, tonight I plan to play the violin for you while you enjoy your dinner," Erik answered cheerfully with a deep bow, "Consider me your well-trained slave tonight, my Lady."

Christine couldn't hold back any longer: "What have you done now, Erik?" she asked suspiciously.

Erik answered innocently: "Nothing, my dear. I just want you to have a nice evening."

"And there are no hidden intentions?" Christine asked, she already knew that Erik was most charming when he felt a pang of remorse.

Erik didn't answer but blushed under his mask - she could see his ears turning bright red. Then Christine noticed that he had put honey wine beside her dessert dish. Now she understood that he was trying his best to seduce her but he was too shy to simply ask her or even demand his rights as a husband, she knew but she couldn't bring herself to speak about it, she was too shy herself. She ran one hand over her neck, then answered softly: "Maybe we can both have a nice evening." It was the best she could bring herself to voice aloud, but it was obviously enough for Erik's head went up and she could tell by his eyes that he was beaming with happiness.

Christine had to smile as she saw Erik acting as violinist, cook, waiter and entertainer alternately and playing each role perfect - he even used different voices and stances for his roles. The cook was fishing for compliments, the waiter utterly charming, the violinist didn't talk much while the entertainer - who was outcharming the waiter - did talk all the time. Erik was all of them, perfect in his roles as if he had been rehearsing for weeks. When Erik in his role as waiter told her that he would inform the cook she giggled. It was just too funny, but Erik kept a straight face and didn't slip from his role.

After she finished her dinner, she took the glass of honey wine and made sure he saw her drinking it. She heard the sharp intake of his breath and knew she was inviting him. She wasn't sure what she wanted - it was hard to find Erik attractive even if he was trying his best. His efforts were most touching and she wanted to embrace him and thank him - but she knew he wanted more. There was an awkward silence. She waited for him to say something, he waited for her to allow him to go on - or reject him, whatever. He needed some signal from her what he was allowed to do now and she was ashamed to give it for she did not know herself what she wanted.

Erik asked softy if he was allowed to sing for her, he had written an aria and wanted to know her opinion on it. So they went to the livingroom and Erik sat down at the piano. His aria was obviously not part of any opera, it was just an aria to stand alone - it was a hymn to love itself, to love and... suddenly she understood what he was singing. It was the Song of Salomon and Erik had given it a haunting melody, sung by his angelic voice it touched something in her soul, she felt incredibly drawn to him, so much, she finally touched his shoulders when the song ended. Erik leaned his head back against her, his amber eyes searching hers as he enjoyed her touch. He could have stayed there all night and would be contend to lean his head against her breast.

"Maybe we should go to bed," Christine said softly. Erik got up and looked at her, trying to figure out if he was allowed to go with her or if she wanted to go to bed alone. When she did not say anything and did not give him any signal he could read clearly he cleared his throat and asked is the evening was to her liking. A whispered "Yes" was the only answer he got, leaving him clueless about her decision.

"Please, Christine, say something - I won't force you to do anything, you may reject me but please say something," he begged, immediately feeling ashamed of himself that he was back to begging.

Christine blushed, then she whispered: "You are my husband." This was all encouragement Erik needed.

Later that night Christine wondered if Erik would always be sleeping in his suit if he was to share her bed. He was peacefully asleep now, holding her in his arms, her head resting at his shoulder. She found she could actually like that, in his arms she didn't feel disgust or hatred and she wondered just how gentle and considerate Erik could be. It wasn't bad being his wife, she mused, it was trying at times but she was relieved her initial fears didn't come true.

When she woke in the morning, Erik had already gone to work. He had left her breakfast on her night table as usual, and as she expected it, there was a surprise for her as well. It was a note, telling her exactly how many days, hours, minutes and even seconds ago Erik had first heard her sing. He had even added the time he had written the note to make sure she would not be confused. The words that brought tears to her eyes were: "I am most grateful for pianissimo - it's more than I deserve."

That evening Christine was singing the Countess in "Marriage of Figaro". Erik was there to listen to her, of course, and this evening he could enjoy even more for his friend, the Daroga, was not there. Christine was, of course, wonderful. A glance at a box on the opposite site of the auditorium told him that Raoul de Chagny was also there to watch her. Erik couldn't help but grin, may the young boy spend as much evenings at the cafe having tea with her as he liked - as long as he, Erik, was the one who was allowed to lie at her side at night. He could almost pity the boy - almost.

Erik waited for Christine in her dressing room, as usual. He had brought her a white rose, knowing it was not the monetary value she would appreciate. As soon as Christine closed the door behind her, he got up and gave her the rose with a deep bow. "You were magnificent, my dear, magnificent!" he praised her.

"Thank you, Erik," she answered smiling, then added softly: "To your note... I guess it was mezzoforte yesterday."

"Mezzoforte? Really?" Erik asked happily, "Then it wasn't that bad? You know, I always feel guilty when I am that selfish and I promise I won't trouble you any time soon..."

"Shhh, Erik, stop that," Christine answered softly, "There is nothing to apologize for."

When they came home, Erik started to cook their dinner. Christine sat at the table, staring at critics in different newspapers, but she was too deep in thought to read them. Suddenly she looked up at him and said softly: "Erik, you know you could insist upon your rights every night if you wanted to?"

Erik laughed: "My dear, I would never force you. You know that by now, don't you? By the way - I'm not a young man, so there is no need to worry I would trouble you too often."

"Aren't you afraid of fathering another child?" she asked. She had to know.

Erik turned round to face her. "No I am not," he said with determination, "I rather hope we will be blessed with a child. It was just childish and selfish of me not to want a child and I deeply regret my behaviour. It's time for me to grow up and act like an adult, don't you think?"

Christine stared at him, her eyes big with surprise. This was a rational, new side of Erik and she found she rather liked it. "If you..." she started, but she could not bring herself to voice her thoughts. How could she talk about such things? The forbidden things they did in the darkness? They weren't forbidden for them, she knew that, but she still couldn't talk about it. She blushed and hid behind a newspaper.

"My dear, I said I will never force you," he sighed, "Why don't you believe me? I only hope that one day you will not do it out of self-sacrifice and duty but of love."

"It wasn't a self-sacrifice", Christine replied, still hiding behind her newspaper. It was easier if she didn't see him to speak of that, but she couldn't bring herself to say more.

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	89. Chapter 89

**Madness and Hope**

It was March and the weather was already warm, spring was coming. Erik was nervous because he knew there had been an evaluation of all new employees in the office and he knew that he had not done well. That day he was called to the head of the authority to discuss the result of the evaluation.

Erik went there, trying not to think of what was to come. From the eleven new employees who had been hired the year before five had been dismissed because they did not meet the requirements.

"Davisseau - I'm sorry that you had to wait for the results so long. We had quite a discussion!" the fat man greeted him.

"Get it over with!" Erik snapped, not able to hide his foul mood, but then he remembered that bad behaviour wouldn't help his cause, so he added with a small bow "Sir". The other man had to smile at Erik's attempt to keep his temper in check and gestured for him to take a seat.

"Davisseau, you are the most difficult one to decide. If you work your results are exceptional good and you manage even the most difficult files to an acceptable result. BUT there are far too many days when you just sit around daydreaming and doing close to nothing," the head of the authority stated.

Erik defended himself: "My wife lost her child, that wasn't exactly easy for me."

"Yes, and I have taken that into account. BUT this happened before and after that as well - some think you are mentally unstable to a level where you are close to being unfit for duty. Do you understand what that means?"

Erik nodded. He knew too well what that would mean.

"Davisseau, the problem with you is that you are one of my best men, you really are, but you spend far too much time daydreaming and staring at the walls. If you work, you do it well, but the problem are the many, many days when you do close to nothing. We all expected you to fail with your deadlines for no one else could do so much work on the last two days of the year. You do more work in two days than anyone else in a month. Of course I know that no one can keep up that pace of work and of course I understand that everyone has a bad day every so often - but you have simply too many bad days."

"And that means...?" Erik asked, afraid he might be the sixth man to be dismissed. He had no idea how he could possibly confess that to Christine - how could he fail her like that again?

"Davisseau, you are irreplaceable in your own weird way. I need a man like you, therefor you will not be dismissed. I take disciplinary measures. You get a monetary penalty of two monthly salaries."

"Two monthly salaries? I can't, I don't have the money," Erik objected.

"You can pay in monthly installments," the short man said. Erik fell silent. He tried to calculate how he could pay that without asking Christine for help. He didn't want to beg for her help, it was too humiliating.

"I need three years," Erik answered.

"That's one of your sick jokes, isn't it? You can get six month, not one day more." When Erik tried to retort something, the short man held up a hand, silencing him. "Not one word, or I might reconsider prolonging your employment here!"

Erik got up and managed to give a small bow. "Yes, sir. Thank you, sir," he said formally and left, the horrible feeling of failure plaguing him.

When he came home he was furious, not so much at his superiors, no, he could rather understand them for he himself would never show that much understanding and generosity, he was angry at himself for he knew he had failed. This was something he did not experience often and he hated it.

He did not have the strength to go to the opera now, he could not sit in the box - maybe with that unnerving Daroga - and pretend everything was normal. It wasn't. He sat at the piano and started playing something, stopped, played something else, but that didn't give him any comfort now. He needed to think of a way out of this situation without having to admit his failure to his wife. It was demeaning as it was - he had failed, he, the one who had been able to stand his ground against the Shah of Persia and his court, he, who had been one of the best architects in France, one of the most successful contractors, and now he had failed in such an easy job.

Erik went to the kitchen and opened a bottle of red wine. One glass of wine to calm his raw nerves.

When Christine returned home close to midnight, Erik had already drunk up the bottle and started on another one. Christine found the livingroom cold, Erik had not build a fire in the stove, he had not lit the gaslights, he had lit one single candle on the piano, next to it was an empty bottle and a full one and a glass. Erik sat at the piano, playing some weird, angry, nearly ugly melodies, the flickering candle cast a horrible light at his unmasked face and made his eyes gleam like glowing coals. Erik looked terrible in his hideousness and fury. For a moment she considered running away, leaving him and taking a room in a hotel, but then she decided it would be better to stay, for if he found out she was sleeping in a hotel in his already aggressive mood no one could predict what he would do.

"Erik?" Christine asked softly.

His head jerked round and he stared at her. "Returning to that failure of a husband?" he hissed.

"Erik, I was singing tonight, nothing else," she answered carefully, fearing his jealousy.

He barked an angry laugh. "O yes, the poor girl has to sing for someone has to earn something in this goddamned family!"

"Erik, what happened?" she asked, suddenly frightened. Erik was drunk and aggressive, but obviously not at her, but this didn't mean she was safe.

"They think I am mentally unstable, daydreaming, lazy," Erik roared, "Those fools! Don't they know that I am a better man than all of them together? I could kill them all and no one - no one - would be able to protect himself!"

"Please, Erik, just tell me what happened," Christine begged.

"Yes, you keep sticking your nosy nose into everything that isn't your concern!" Erik growled.

"I just want to help you!" Christine yelled back, no longer willing to bear his ill temper.

"But I don't need anyone's help! I don't want anyone's help!" Erik roared, "Or do you think me such a weakling I would crawl to my wife and beg for money? That I would beg my wife to pay for my debts?"

"Erik - WHAT HAPPENED?" Christine asked, "I am your wife in good days and in bad days - now, if there are bad days, tell me!"

Erik seemed to wake up from his fury. He sat down on the piano bench again, his arms on the piano, and buried his face in his arms. "I'm sorry," he moaned, "I'm sorry, my dear. I am sorry - I am angry at myself and yelled at you, please forgive me."

Christine went to him and stood directly behind him, placing her right hand at his shoulder. She could feel that his shoulders were shaking under her hand. "Erik, please tell me," she said softly.

"I failed in my job," Erik answered, wiping away his tears, trying to stop weeping but he couldn't.

"O God," Christine whispered, turning pale, "They dismissed you."

"No, not that, but they take disciplinary measures and I have to pay two month salary as a monetary penalty," Erik answered, staring at the bottle of wine on the piano, "And I have no idea how I could pay that with honestly earned money. I can't even ask for a loan for I'm not sure if I can pay it back in time." He took the bottle and drank directly from it, ignoring the glass on the piano. Some wine ran down his chin and stained his shirt.

Christine gently took the bottle from his hand. "I think you had enough," she rebuked him, but she made sure it didn't sound too angry for she didn't want him to be aggressive again.

"Yes, you are right," he agreed, "And I am so ashamed of myself. I'm just a pathetic failure and such a coward - I had to get drunk to be able to confess this to you."

"Erik, I earn almost ten times as much as you do, I just give you whatever you need and it won't be a problem," Christine said, "I really don't need that much money each month."

Erik smirked and tried to laugh but it came out more like a sob: "It's 8,33 times as much, but yes, I know you can lend me the money. But I will pay it back - every last Centime of it." He hid his face in his hands, as he blurted out: "God, this is so humiliating! I wish the ground would open up and swallow me up!"

Christine continued to stroke his shoulders and his back softly until she felt him relax. Then she sighed: "I guess I do the cooking tonight. You need to eat something, you can't live only on wine."

"O yes, I'd love scrambled eggs - they are my favourite dish, did you know that?"

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 _Erik isn't used to normal work any more. When he was working as architect, he lived purely for his work and didn't have a private life to distract him. He has to learn how to work without letting his private troubles affecting the quality of his work._

 _Now this is really humiliating for Erik - that time a man was supposed to earn enough to provide everything his family needed. A wife was expected to be a housewife. It is bad enough that she earns much more than he does, now she lends him money so he can pay his debt. That's really embarrassing for him._

 _Christine can't cook anything but scrambled eggs - I've mentioned that before. ;-)_


	90. Chapter 90

**Madness and Hope**

At the end of the week Erik had to go through the humiliation of having to go the the personell office and pay his monetary punishment. The man in that office managed to keep a straight face as long as he was speaking with Erik and bite back all the witty remarks he wanted to tell for he knew that this Erique Davisseau was a dangerous man with an unpredictable temper - and he always got away lightly with his freakishness for the head of the authority liked him.

Erik knew they would talk about it, he knew all of them laughed behind his back and this time he couldn't even say that it wasn't his fault. Of course everyone knew that he must have lend the money somewhere and since everyone knew who his wife was he wasn't surprised that some assumed that his wife was paying the monetary punishment. His surprise were the other rumors he heard being spread in the corridors - some assumed that he had taken bribe money, others assumed that he had won in a gamble, one even suggested he might have committed burglary and the rumor that almost made him laugh for it was that hilarious was that he was getting money from the Comte de Chagny for having married his mistress. Then he was angry for this rumor was affecting Christine - his virtuous Christine - and he should do something about it, but what? He couldn't start killing everyone who was gossiping. As long as it was only about himself, well, he could deal with that, his reputation was already damaged beyond repair so he didn't have much to loose, but her's?

What could he possibly do without taking the risk of losing his job or facing another disciplinary enquiry? He couldn't even risk to play a childish prank on them for he knew that he would be the first suspect and there wouldn't be the benefit of doubt. All he could do was to talk to them. He didn't dare to use his ventriloquism and the threatening Phantom-voice, he just opened the door, showing himself and said aloud: "Messieurs, I hope you are not about to spread any dirty rumor about my wife, I would hate to have to protect her reputation."

"Since duels are forbidden, what are you going to do?" one man asked, "Go to the court? There is nothing you can do."

Erik just shrugged, as he answered: "Are you certain of that?" and turned on his heel and went back to his work.

"You mustn't provoke him," an elder official told the younger man, "Davisseau is a reckless rogue. You haven't seen him when he was running that construction enterprise. I don't know for sure but he was said to use blackmail to get what he wanted - even blackmailing officials into accepting bribe money, then threatening them further, forcing them into complicity. Some even suspect him to be a murderer, though this is something I do not believe - even he wouldn't dare take a life. Believe me, you wouldn't want him your enemy. You have seen his crazy ways of dealing with his opponents."

Erik grinned. It had been a bluff. He had not one idea how to stop these men from spreading gossip. He surely wouldn't do anything that might upset his wife, so he felt as if he was kept on a very tight leash and wearing a muzzle too. He could bark but never bite. But they didn't know, they knew his bad reputation, which was quite exaggerated in some ways while underestimating him in others.

Erik took his time going home. He didn't want to be in this dark mood when he came to see Christine after the rehearsal for Othello. He mustn't vent his frustration on her. He left the building, then used an entrance in a backyard to a cellar from where he could reach the catacombs. He knew his way down there, he knew the catacombs better than anyone else. He used the way through the catacombs to reach the graveyard, there he went to the grave of his son.

When he reached it, he found a withered white rose on it. Softly he brushed a bit of dust from the guardian angel statue. "I'm sorry I visit so seldom," he said, as if the child could hear him, "I guess your mother left you this rose." He took a deep breath and rested his forehead against the cold marble of the statue. "I wonder how our life would be if you were alive," he said, "Maybe it was better this way, maybe not. I have no idea, I'm sorry."

"Erik?" he heard Christine's soft voice behind him.

"Christine?" he turned round to see her in a black cloak, the veil of her hat hiding her beautiful face.

"I didn't know you came here," Christine said softly, "I thought you tried to forget him."

"And I didn't dare speak of him for fear I would only hurt you," Erik answered, still holding onto the statue, "I came here today because I... I needed someone to help me to overcome my anger today. He always has that effect on me. When I'm here, nothing really seems to matter, in the face of death these problems are so insignificant."

"Erik, please hold me," Christine begged. Erik didn't hesitate to take her to his arms.

"I am sorry, Christine," he whispered.

"It's not your fault, Erik," she answered, "It wasn't meant to be."

"Maybe nothing of this was ever meant to be - yet here you are in my arms."

After a while she asked: "Do you think he can see us?"

Erik shrugged: "How am I to know? He's an angel in heaven now, I guess that is better than anything I could ever provide for him."

"I would like to go to Perros Guirec," Christine said.

Erik gave a deep sigh. He surely had no intention to visit her fathers grave but if she wanted to he could not deny her. "You think you get a few days off at the opera?" he asked, "If I can get a few days off I will accompany you - but I can't promise anything without asking for permission first. I can't risk losing my job."

On their way home a man nearly bumped into Erik. Erik avoided that by taking a step sideways in time, but when he recognized the architect who had given him much trouble he wished he had sent that insolent man to the ground instead.

"O Monsieur Davisseau," the architect greeted, "What a PLEASURE to meet you." He took of his hat and made a deep bow to Christine. "And this must be the lovely Madame Davisseau, the prima donna assoluta." Erik snarled at the man, he had certainly no intention to enter a discussion with him right now. "I'm so sorry we can't discuss our little differences in the interpretation of some building regulations now, but rest assured, we will have this most INSPIRING exchange of ideas soon..."

Erik took Christine's arm and dragged her along, not saying one word to the architect.

"Erik, that was rude!" Christine rebuked him, "He was just being friendly."

"No, he wasn't! He was threatening me and you!"

"You are being paranoid again!" Christine gasped and managed to break free from his grip.

"I'm not. I played a few pranks on him and hoped he would never dare to oppose me again, but right now I know he's up to something not good. Believe me - I had the same problem with someone in the building authority years ago, but then I was the architect and he the one I tried to trick into committing abuse of authority. Now this insolent fool tries to get me to allow things I simply can't allow. Now my job is to make sure the rules are obeyed and he is the troublemaker. There is only one thing that would be worse than being on the receiving end in this one - if I was manager of the opera house!"

Christine noticed that Erik was chuckling at his last sentence, his anger gone. She giggled.

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	91. Chapter 91

**Madness and Hope**

They managed to get some days off so they could go to Perros Guirec. Erik was extremely nervous, for this time they would go by train and take the stagecoach. This meant that he would have to spend much time together with people and he disliked it. Christine at his side might help, he had already noticed that people looked at him in his mask different if she was at his side, but on the other hand he needed to protect her as well.

Christine noticed just how nervous Erik was, he was buying their tickets and he was walking next to her - he had insisted that he carried their suitcases - but she knew he had a walking cane not for fun. It was made of metal and had a very sharp end. And he had an umbrella with a hidden knife. She suspected Erik to have more weapons hidden on his body - he had been preparing their trip as if he was preparing to have to fight an army single-handed. She wasn't sure if she should feel save at his side for he could protect her from everyone or if she should better run for he was dangerous.

They sat in an railway compartment together with another married couple. The other couple were two young people about Christine's age and they stared at the masked man with barely hidden curiosity. Erik rolled his eyes. Great - being trapped in a small railway compartment with two strangers. They didn't look dangerous - Erik observed that neither one knew how to protect himself so he could easily take down the man within ten seconds if necessary.

Christine smiled at the couple and tried to start a conversation: "Good afternoon, Madame and Monsieur. I'm Madame Davisseau and this is my husband."

Erik grunted something that might be a curse, a threat or a nice greeting. Christine shot him a disapproving look, then smiled at the other woman.

"Good afternoon. I am Madame Clavell and this is my husband. He's the chief gardener in Versailles."

"Nice to meet you," Christine answered, still smiling, "My husband is an architect at the building authority." Erik glanced at her, trying to figure out if she had really said that as if she was proud of him or if he was just dreaming it up.

"You have such a lovely dress," Madame Clavell started and Christine returned the compliment, praising Madame Clavells wonderful hat. Then they talked hours only about dresses and hats.

Erik stared at the landscape, his hands playing with his walking cane. Monsieur Clavell was doing the same, both men wondering how easily the two women made friends.

Then there was a small silence, obviously both women had said everything they could about their dresses and hats. Erik wondered how they could discuss dresses and hats and shoes for such a long time. If he would be forced to talk about something like that he would be done in about sixty seconds.

"I don't want to be rude, but..." Madame Clavell asked and made a small gesture to Erik's mask.

Before Christine could answer, Erik said: "I suffered a severe injury in the war." Christine knew this wasn't true, but she kept silent. She would ask Erik later why he had lied about his defacement.

"O, I am so sorry," the woman said sympathetically.

"Erik, please don't be angry. It's normal that people are curious," Christine said.

Erik grunted but kept silent, trying to contain his anger. He hated to sit there with two strangers, being stared at, even if the woman pretended to be understanding. He could only hope he would not do or say something before they reached their destination. The horrible noise from the train and the stench from the steam engine didn't help either. The noises were painful, the constant chattering of the women added to his discomfort. He felt a terrible headache building between his temples.

When the train came to halt at a rail station Monsieur Clavell opened the window, leaning out and called to one of those men who sold snacks and drinks on the platform. "Does anyone else want something?" he asked.

"O yes, some water would be nice," Christine said and Erik automatically reached for his purse, debating with himself if he could risk buying some brandy. It would dull his headache but it would also dull his reflexes and he couldn't risk that now. Madame Clavell asked for something to eat and a drink and Erik decided better not to eat anything, the movement, the noise, the stench, the headache - no, there was no need to add sickness to his already long list of discomfort.

The train ride had been horrible, but the stagecoach was even worse for there were even more people in there. Erik even asked Christine if they could wait for another coach but this was the last one to Perros Guirec that day, they had no choice. Sitting in a stagecoach with seven strangers - not so good. And two of the strangers were children and they insisted in singing - what they called singing. Erik shuddered and tightened his grasp on his walking cane, hoping to prevent himself from slapping them. Christine on the other hand was happy - she quickly made friends with the two boys and their mother and even encouraged them to "sing" - as if their horrible screeching could be called singing.

"Could you please shut up!" Erik yelled, far louder than he had intended to do. One of the boys started crying and now everyone was staring at him again. "And kindly stop crying or I strangle you!" he snapped irritated.

"O Erik, they are just children," Christine rebuked him annoyed.

"I already have a terrible headache, I don't need their screeching to get one," Erik snapped.

This time the mother of the two boys came to their protection. "They are children, Monsieur, and they have a right to be happy. They are very talented" - Erik smirked behind his mask - "and you should show a little patience for them."

"I am a very patient man," Erik answered and Christine did her best not to laugh, "But right now I suggest that you teach them how to behave. I good child does not make any noise when in company of adults."

"Erik, please, they are just children..." Christine interrupted him before this would get out of hand.

Erik leaned back in his seat and tried not to think of the necessary travel back to Paris. Christine noticed that she had to do something to help him through this ride or he would do something stupid. She didn't put it past him to just jump out of the carriage at full speed or something equally stupid. She just leaned against him, pretending to be cold. This would be enough, she hoped.

Erik was relieved when they finally reached Perros Guirec for he wasn't sure how much longer he could have endured that carriage ride without being sick or killing someone. While he got their suitcases, wondering why Christine's suitcase was about trice as heavy as his own, even when he had his violin with him, Christine went to the inn asking for rooms. It was easier if she asked for two rooms for her and her husband than if Erik himself asked. To her annoyance there was only one room left, they would have to share a room. The landlord didn't understand the problem - why should a married couple not share a room?

"Just don't do or say anything that would upset my husband," Christine sighed.

"Erik, there is only one room left - I'm afraid we'll have to share it," she said, trying to sound happy but she didn't.

"I know a way to get more than one free room," Erik growled, he was tired, had a terrible headache and just wanted to be left alone. Right now he had more than enough of people - he didn't even want Christine at his side.

Christine gently put a hand on his arm as he set down their luggage. "Please, no scandal. We are married and I don't see a problem sharing a room," she said, but she knew it was a lie - there was one very big problem and that was Erik's bad temper.

Erik ran a hand over his masked face. His headache was growing worse every minute and he wanted to lie down. "If you insist..." he mumbled, knowing they wouldn't get much sleep if they had to share a room.

The room was large, with a huge bed and a table with four chairs and a cupboard. On a second table was a pitcher and a wash basin. Erik rolled his eyes. This wasn't a very comfortable inn - the toilet was outside behind the house and there was no bathroom. Obviously most guests agreed to use the covered chamber-pot at night. And there was nothing, not even a room-divider, to protect their modesty. Erik decided to sleep in his suit that night, he would certainly not undress himself before her. Never. He put down the suitcases on the floor and laid down on the bed, covering his eyes with his left arm. The headache was horrible now and he was just glad the room was quiet.

"Erik, you haven't eaten much today, have you?" Christine asked, "Maybe we should go downstairs and eat something? Or at least drink some tea?"

"No. Tell the innkeeper to bring us something to our room. And a bottle of red wine. Red wine usually helps my headache."

Christine went downstairs to tell the waiter that they would take supper in their room, but instead of wine she ordered tea. She would not have Erik drinking a bottle of wine and then sleeping in the same bed with her.

When the waiter brought the plate with two bowls of soup, a piece of bread and a teapot, Erik immediately asked about the wine. The waiter said that no wine had been ordered, then left the room in a hurry, not wanting to be there when these two had a martial row.

Erik sat up, but his head was spinning and he didn't want to stand up. "Woman, I told you to order red wine - did I not make myself clear?" he snarled, his voice making her shudder, it was the threatening voice he had used as the Phantom.

"You made yourself perfectly clear, but alcohol will not cure your headache - it would only be worse tomorrow," she reasoned, hoping he would understand her.

"When I order you to do something, woman, you do it exactly as I say, is that understood?" he asked threateningly, "Or do you no longer fear my wrath? Have you so little regard for your safety?"

Christine shuddered and tried to figure out how to react. Could she risk defying him? But if she didn't - what would he make her do in the future? She didn't like that he used red wine as medicine against headache, she knew how he was when he was drunk. It would do him no good. "Please listen to me," she said, forcing herself not to let her fear show, "I did it in your best interest because I care for your well-being. You don't want to become a drunkard, do you? Please, sit down with me, have some soup and some tea and then we go to bed."

Erik was about to retort something rude, but then he stopped himself and the anger in his eyes disappeared as he lowered his head. "You are right," he sighed, "I'm sorry. The headache is... terrible. But of course you are right and I thank you for your concern."

He didn't eat much, but he managed to swallow some soup and a cup of tea before he went back to the bed. Christine sat there, not knowing what to do. She needed to get rid of her corset to sleep but to do that she would have to take off her dress.

"Erik? Can you please... look away?" she asked, not daring to ask him to leave the room.

Erik opened his eyes, not really understanding her. "Why?" he asked. Christine blushed and now he understood that she really wouldn't be able to sleep in that dress with all her undergarments and all.

He pushed himself up and told her he would need a bit of fresh air anyway, to give her enough time to change into her nightgown.

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 _Maybe some of you might guess that I strongly dislike having to use public means of transport. ;-)_


	92. Chapter 92

**Madness and Hope**

The next day Christine woke first, which was quite unusual, and found Erik asleep next to her on the bed. He must have taken off his mask and his jacket but he still wore his shirt and his trousers. His sparse brown hair was growing white at his temples. She wanted to get dressed and tried to figure out how to do this without Erik seeing her. She didn't want to wake him, she knew he had fallen asleep only in the morning and she hadn't slept well herself. So she took his hat and placed it on his face, hoping not to wake him up. He grunted something but didn't move, so she decided to take the risk.

She got dressed in a hurry and when she turned round she saw that Erik was still asleep, his face covered with his hat. "Erik?" she asked softly and he grunted, turned round to lie on his stomach.

"What time is it?" he murmured sleepily.

"About seven o'clock," Christine answered and Erik jumped.

"Seven? God, I should be at work..." he exclaimed panicked, then looked around and remembered that they had both taken a few days off. Christine chuckled.

Then she asked seriously: "Why did you lie about your mask yesterday?"

Erik put the mask on and answered sadly: "Because if I say I have been wounded in an accident or in war it isn't my fault. If anyone knew I was born like that, I am a freak of nature, less than human, more like a wild beast to be feared and locked away. People are like that - if they think I had been normal once and only had an accident it makes me a little bit more human in their eyes. But if they know I was born this way I'm even less than an animal in their eyes, I'm an abomination to be erased from this earth as if it was my fault that I am what I am."

Christine put her hand on his arm, trying to comfort him. "To me you are a man," she said.

They went downstairs to get their breakfast. The dining area was full, obviously all guests had chosen that time to have their breakfast. As Erik entered the room, suddenly all of them fell silent and stared at his mask. He used his fawn mask for it was less intimidating than the white or the black one, but now they were all staring at him. Erik considered walking away, he hated being stared at.

"Good morning," Christine greeted no one in particular, making her voice sounding cheerful, then she went to a table at the window. Erik would never have chosen a table close to a window. She sat down and waited for Erik to join her.

When he sat down, a soft murmur started in the room, they could make out "Who are they?" and "Why is he wearing a mask?" as the main questions and speculations. And there were words like "beast" "freak" and even "murderer" "rapist" and "child abuse" in the room. Christine was much younger than Erik but she was no child and she was angry.

"Why don't you just ask us, if you have questions about us?" Christine asked aloud, and Erik grabbed her hand to stop her. He surely had no intention to explain his need for a mask to everyone in this room. The murmur became softer and many people looked away from them.

"Christine, please, you are just making it worse," Erik warned her.

"No, I won't sit back and listen to them mocking us!" Christine exclaimed furious, "How could they be so rude? It isn't your fault that you are wearing a mask!"

"You are making this worse!" Erik warned her. He knew that they could be asked to leave any time soon or even worse face some violent people who would try to force him to take off his mask to see his face. If he had been alone he would have dealt with that but he wasn't sure he could protect Christine if the situation escalated.

"No, I won't be still and endure their stares!" Christine even raised her voice, "It is not your fault you were wounded in that terrible war and you deserve much better than that!"

Erik's jaw dropped and he stared at her. She had just lied to protect him. Now he understood what she was doing - she was acting, she was playing a role to protect him. He had to suppress the sudden urge to fall to his knees before her and kiss her feet in his gratitude. When he looked around he saw some people looking away in shame, others were still staring but not disgusted or frightened or mistrustful but rather sympathetic. Erik didn't want anyone's pity for now they looked at him like he was a poor cripple, they still looked down on him but not fearful and disgusted. He gave a heavy sigh and looked at Christine, mumbling a soft "Thank you."

That day they went to the graveyard in daylight. Christine noticed that Erik had his violin with him and smiled. He would play for her again but this time without pretending to be an angel. She looked forward to hearing his music again.

She stood there at her father's grave, Erik beside her, playing the violin. He didn't say a word, just kept playing, when one piece of music was finished he simply begun another one. Neither one of them knew how much time they spent at the graveyard in this way. There was this strange feeling in Christine, something told her that Erik shouldn't be there and then his music in this moment was something she would never have wanted to miss.

In the afternoon they went to the beach, Christine insisted showing Erik where she had been happy as a child. Erik wasn't much interested in hearing just how happy Christine was playing with Raoul but he understood that it was her way of somehow including him in her life by telling him these things. When she showed him the place where Raoul had rescued her scarf from the sea Erik laughed: "In summer I would fetch anything from the sea for you - but right now it's too cold so please take care of your hat and everything else." He tried to pretend he was happy when he rather felt like crying.

"Erik, I am not telling you this to hurt you," Christine said, "I want to have a happy memory with you in Perros Guirec too. One that does not include your betrayal or a grave."

Erik let his eyes wander over the beautiful landscape. It was early spring and he knew it would be beautiful in summer. "I could play for you again, my Christine," he offered. They sat down at a bench near the beach where they had a beautiful view of the sea and Erik lifted his violin, tuned it, and played.

"That's beautiful," Christine said, "I've never heard that one before. What is it?"

"I'm improvising," Erik answered and continued to play, "I pick up the sounds of the sea, the wind, the animals, everything around me and just play along. I did that as a child often, when I did not feel the need to write it down to preserve the moment. This is a one-moment-music for I could never make the sea play along with me, it is me who has to adjust. I lost that ability when I grew up, and today you gave it back to me."

Christine listened to the music now in a different way. Before she had just paid attention to the violin, now she tried to include the sounds of the nature around them. It was like an orchestra, with her own talent she could hear all of its instruments but all of them at once gave a totally different and even more beautiful music.

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	93. Chapter 93

**Madness and Hope**

The trip back to Paris was even worse for this time they had to sit in a railway compartment with a family with four children, three girls and a boy, and they were noisy to say the least. Christine liked them and was easily persuaded into playing with them to the delight of their mother, while Erik couldn't stop himself from asking them to be silent every so often, but, to his dismay, it only helped for a few moments then the children started to play again and would get louder and louder.

When they reached Paris it was late in the night and Erik was in a terrible mood. If not for Christine's sake he would have killed the whole family. He wondered how he had been able to survive the trip back anyway without killing anyone.

When they went through the railway station to the place where some cabs waited for customers they passed a group of young men, more boys than men, and they were drunk. When they saw Erik's mask they found he was the perfect victim for their mockery. "Hey mask, carnival is over," one shouted and the laughed. "He's a circus freak - here, a coin for a show?" another one mocked. Erik stopped and put down the suitcases.

"Please, don't fight them," Christine begged, worriedly, "Let's go."

"Hey, Mademoiselle, if you are that eager you can come to us - we'll make it right..." The man who said that was silenced in a moment when a thin coil fell around his neck, forcing him to the ground, nearly choking him.

"Erik, don't kill him!" Christine screamed horrified.

Erik calmly loosened the noose and took back his lasso. The man on the ground took a shuddering breath. Erik looked at the young men who suddenly didn't know if they should laugh or run away. "Anyone else with a witty remark?" he asked calmly, almost bored, and they shook their heads. "I didn't think so." He turned back to walk away when a stone thrown by one of the men hit his back. Erik reacted faster than either Christine or the men could see it, his movement like a blur, then two of the men fell to their knees, crying out in pain for he had hit them with throwing knifes. Erik walked to them calmly, the men who weren't injured ran away in panic.

"Please, Erik, don't, they are just boys!" Christine begged.

"Boys are they?" Erik asked mockingly, "When I was their age I was a well trained master executioner." This did nothing to calm the frightened men. Erik went to them to pull out his throwing knifes for he didn't want to lose them. "Stop whining!" Erik told them calmly, "If I wanted to kill you you would be dead by now. My aim was perfect, all you will suffer is a scar on your leg to remind you to mind your own business. Now, if you excuse us, Messieurs, this circus freak has to entertain yet another audience."

He just went back to retrieve the suitcases and they walked away.

"Erik, was that really necessary?" Christine asked. She hated to see that side of Erik - the dark, threatening, violent Erik to whom killing was as easy and natural as breathing.

Erik stopped and took a deep breath before he answered: "No, it wasn't. But it was quite satisfying. Please, I reacted kindly, they have barely a scratch, so let's not fight."

They reached their house shortly after midnight, both of them exhaused.

The next day was a Sunday but neither felt like going to the church. Erik felt much better now that he was back where he felt save.

"I'm sorry for last night," he said, but he didn't sound ashamed at all, "I know you dislike violence. It was all a bit too much for me."

Christine just nodded, not knowing what to say. There was an awkward silence, then Christine simply thanked him for the trip.

"You are welcome," Erik answered, "But please promise me we won't have to take the train again soon."

In the afternoon Christine noticed that Erik was becoming restless and uneasy.

"Please tell me what troubles you?" she asked.

Erik looked at the piano as if the instrument would give him strength and blushed. "I liked sleeping in that inn," he said and both of them knew he wasn't referring to the room or the inn but to the fact that they had shared the bed. He couldn't bring himself to ask directly, but Christine understood what he wanted to know.

"Yes, I slept well," she answered, hoping he would take the hint and somehow he did, for he blushed even more, she could tell by the color of his ears.

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 _A group of drunken young men looking for a victim is a very real danger - ask the security guards of discotheques if you don't believe me._


	94. Chapter 94

**Madness and Hope**

That evening Erik came to Christine's room when she was already in the bed. He sat down on the bed and waited for her permission to lay down. She just shifted and moved over to the left side. Erik was fully dressed, trousers, shirt and vest, of course with his mask, but he had choosen less elegant and more casual clothes. At least he didn't feel the need to sleep in his tuxedo when he wanted to sleep in the same bed with her.

"Don't worry, I won't trouble you tonight," he said as if he needed to reassure her that she had nothing to fear from him. Of course - right now he was nervous and couldn't bring himself to even look at her.

"It is okay, I did sleep well the last night," Christine assured him, wondering if he would ever stop being that shy - even when she dared to allow him to see her in her nightgown, but he still didn't dare showing himself less than fully dressed and after what she had already seen of his body she was grateful. She wasn't sure if she could allow him to touch her again if she ever saw him naked. She knew his body was far too thin, scars covering his whole body, his skin an odd colour though this had gotten much better since he was going out at daytime covered only with his false nose. In her company though he preferred his mask.

Christine did not sleep well that night but she was surprised that Erik fell to a deep slumber easily. Obviously being close to her helped him sleep. She woke because something brushed her lips slightly. It was pitch black but she could feel that it was his lips - he was kissing her lightly.

"I love you," he whispered, then she felt the matress move a bit when he got up. She didn't hear him move, he was silent as ever.

"Erik?" she asked sleepily.

"Christine? I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to wake you - you never wake up..." he trailed off as if he had just said too much, giving away a secret.

"What do you mean, I never wake up?" she asked.

Erik answered with a small sigh: "I kiss you every morning and tell you that I love you. You never wake up, you don't even wake up when I place the plate with your breakfast on your nighttable. Sorry, I have to turn off my alarm clock or it will for sure startle you soon." She could hear the door klick softly as he closed it.

It didn't take long before the door opened again and Christine could see a shadow moving in the room. It was Erik, she knew he was placing the tray on her night table.

"Why do you do that?" Christine asked.

"Do what?" Erik asked bewildered.

"Kiss me and tell me that you love me each day?"

"Because..." Erik answered and Christine could easily imagine him blushing and shifting from one foot to the other, "I live every day knowing that it might be my last. If I am to die today, I want my last words to you to be 'I love you'. I know this is silly..."

"No, it is not," Christine objected softly, "That's a very nice idea."

"Please, go back to sleep. It is only 5 in the morning, I have to go to work, not you. I'll see you tonight at the opera as Countess," he said and the word 'countess' had a very bitter taste on his tongue. He was referring to her role in Marriage of Figaro but she knew why he felt that bitter.

She kept meeting Raoul and as often as she told him to find a woman of his social class the Comte always stubbornly refused, telling her that he would wait for her no matter what, he wanted her and no one else. Since Raoul was the head of the family now there was no danger of being disowned for marrying a singer, thus disgracing his family. He waited for Erik's death and the three of them knew. Christine wondered why Erik did nothing to discourage her or forbid her to meet Raoul. Was it his guilty conscience? Or his age? She still did not even know how old he was. She decided to ask him before she fell asleep again.

That night, after their dinner, Erik asked again if he was allowed to sleep in her bed or if she would prefer to be alone. Christine thought about it. It hadn't been bad the last days, so why not? "Okay, but I want a bath first and... maybe you could consider dressing at least a bit more casual?" she suggested.

"Of course, I just build a fire so you have hot water," Erik answered.

When Christine lay in her bed, she wondered what Erik was doing that long. He had to get up at 4:30 in the morning, it was already midnight and he was still in the bathroom. Was he too taking a bath? She blushed when she thought that he might need a cold bath before going to sleep.

She must have fallen asleep for she woke when Erik came to the room, he had already extinguished all gaslights, only one candle on the night table gave a bit of light. Christine saw that Erik now wore casual grey trousers and a grey shirt and of course a mask. His sparse brown hair was still a bit wet, he definitely had taken a bath before going to bed. He blew out the candle and tried to slip under the blanket without disturbing her.

Christine decided to move closer to him, causing him nearly to jump out of the bed alarmed. She giggled at the thought of him, who could be so menancing, spooked by her touch.

"I'm sorry. I thought you were asleep," Erik apologized a bit breathless.

"It's okay," she assured him, settling down next to him, "May I ask you something?"

"Yes?"

"How old are you?"

Erik took a deep breath, then reminded himself that she had every right to know and his age was certainly one of their least problems. "Fiftyfour," he whispered, suddenly ashamed of being old.

"Fiftyfour?" Christine asked astonished. She had guessed him to be older than fourty, but older than fifty? He surely didn't act like a man of that age and he was far too agile and strong to be so old. She was only twenty, so he was close to being old enough to be her grandfather.

"I hope this is no problem?" Erik asked worriedly.

"No, certainly not," she assured him. He was much older than she would have guessed. But this didn't really make any difference in their relationship. She wondered if he had looked any better when he had been younger. Maybe - maybe not. To assure him that everything was allright she placed her hand on his chest and he gave a sigh.

She softly touched the soft fabric of his shirt, she could still feel his ribcage under her palm, even worse, she felt a twisted scar.

"Christine, I do not think this is a good idea," Erik warned her.

"O, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you," she whispered, mistaking his warning.

"O no, you didn't hurt me," Erik answered hoarsly, "It rather felt too good. So if you are not trying to seduce me, you better not touch me like this again!"

"O no!" she gasped, "I would never..." The way he suddenly jumped out of the bed told her just how much she had hurt him. She could not see him but she knew that his night vision was far better than hers and he could still see something. "I'm sorry," she tried to apologize helplessly.

"Don't be," Erik snapped, "Why apologize for telling the truth? I'm a repulsive carcass, I know that, and it is only thanks to your brave self-sacrifice that you tolerate my touch without being sick." He nearly yelled the last words, then drew a deep breath and let out a sob. He was crying in shame and pain. He had always known she didn't want him, she was just fulfilling her duty, and he should be thankful for what he got and admire her self-control to endure his selfishness. But to hear it from her lips hurt too much to keep silent.

"Erik, no, I didn't mean it," Christine said, suddenly aware of her mistake, "Your touch isn't disgusting to me, not any more. Please... come back to bed." She felt guilty for she knew how her words had hurt him badly.

"My dear, I think it is better I sleep in my own room," Erik answered, not angry, only sad.

No, not again! Christine thought, not this discussion again! She didn't desire him - who could anyway? - but she had to admit she liked his gentle embrace if he dared to touch her. Somewhere deep inside her, so deep, she wouldn't even admit it to herself, she knew that she liked his passion for her, maybe just because it flattered her, maybe for some yet unknown reason, but she didn't fear his touch.

"Erik, come back to bed," she whispered, blushing in the darkness, wondering if he could sense her blush somehow.

"You don't have to do it, you know," Erik answered softly, but he did no longer have the strength to resist, cursing his weakness and selfishness.

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 _Since Leroux never states how old Erik is I chose to adapt his age to fit my story. I know he could be everything between 40 and 60 - in this story he's 54 now._

 _Being married isn't easy, although both of them try to adjust and help each other._


	95. Chapter 95

**Madness and Hope**

Erik got another 'difficult task' - it was 'his favourite architect' as his collegues told him. The problem was the new building project. There was a warehouse and the project was to build a block of flats on top of the warehouse. It wasn't allowed to use the roof of a depot for a block of flats. Erik rather liked the plans, he thought the idea was very good - you need one parcel of land instead of two, making more profit. Now it was up to him to forbid that project, despite the fact that he would have loved to allow it.

Since the warehose already existed he decided to have a look before he would do anything else. To make sure he would not be disturbed he decided to do the inspection at five o'clock in the morning, so he could wear his mask and leave his false nose in his pocket. He preferred the mask.

When he entered the warehouse - of course he didn't have a key for he hadn't told anyone he was going to do the inspection now - he noticed a movement behind one of the columns that supported the roof timbering. Someone was there in the darkness, someone who shouldn't be there for according to the request the warehouse was empty. Maybe a clochard who had build up his temporary camp there? But then there was another movement and a third one. Finally Erik counted eight men. Eight was a sufficient number to make Erik reconsider. He could frighten away three - but not eight. It wasn't his duty to send them away and he didn't want to risk a fight with eight men who might be just clochards but might as well be members of a criminal gang and dangerous.

When he turned round he saw ten more men approaching the door - they were too close, he couldn't simply run past them, he was trapped and he was sure that this trap had been laid especially for him. Now he saw the men in the warehouse lightening their lamps and candles. He couldn't run and he couldn't fight twenty men, he was outnumbered. He was certain he could kill three men, maybe taking down three more, before they would finally overpower him. Maybe they just wanted to frighten him, maybe they were hired to give him a beating. He did not think them to be murderers - it would have been too easy to simply shoot him down if they wanted blood.

His only route of escape was up. The roof truss was too high just to jump up there so he used his lasso, thew it up, it caught one of the roof beams and Erik simply climed up. Now he was sitting in about four meters height on a roof beam, feeling rather ridiculos sitting there like a cat who had fled to a tree to escape a pack of hounds.

"Davisseau? What are you doing up there?" the architect, who now entered the scene, asked. He couldn't understand how Erik had been able to get up there.

"Inspecting the roof," Erik answered dryly, "That hall will never support a block of flats." What else could he say? That he was scared and didn't dare to come down? He knew perfectly well that this wasn't a stalemate, it was just his defeat delayed. They could alternate with one another watching him and resting or eating or whatever while he would eventually tire and have to get down.

"This is ridiculous!" the architect shouted, "Come down here!"

Erik refused: "And receive a beating? No, thank you very much!"

"We would never touch an official," the architect said, then added grinning: "You have fallen prey to street robbery and we found you injured and shocked - you were so frightened you mistook us for robbers!"

"Haha, very funny," Erik retorted, knowing all too well that with his reputation as a notorious liar no one would doubt twenty men testifying against him. If he would try to press charges, he would present himself either as mentally unbalanced or as liar - both scenarios resulting in him losing his job.

"Come down and let us help you," the architect said.

"I'm not finished with my inspection of the roof," Erik answered and sat down on the roof beam.

"This is ridiculous!"

"At least we agree on that!"

"You know how this is going to end?" the architect asked.

"Actually yes, this is MY trick and I avoided an inspection for more than twelve month that way - with three building inspectors ending up in hospital. But you are doing this sloppy, not offering me an escape route now. I always offered an escape route, because someone who has nothing left to lose is even more dangerous," Erik answered calmly, "And now I even remember who you are - you were the student who begged to work for me at the building site of the opera, weren't you? The one willing to aid me in the dirty little adventures as well? The one I fired after only six month?"

"Yes, you fired me. But I still admired you and wanted to be exactly like you - you were one of the greatest contractors I ever met. What a shame that you are now a mere shell of your former self."

Erik paused to think about that. He thought it was an improvement in his career to be an honest building inspector rather than a reckless - yet very successful - business man. At least his conscience was clean now - well, as clean as it would get anyway. "Better be careful what you wish for," Erik answered and he meant it. He couldn't understand how anyone would want to be like him. "Let me go and I forget what happened," Erik offered, "Or you force me to fight for my life."

"That's enough!" another voice cut in, more authoritative than the architect, "I won't risk bloodshed." Then Raoul de Chagny revealed himself, he had been hiding in the back of the warehouse. Erik groaned.

"Well, Davisseau, you showed me that there is always a bigger fish in the ocean. You are bigger than me, you taught me that lesson the hard way, but I found an even bigger fish..." the architect teased.

"And you think HIM" - Erik pointed to Raoul - "more dangerous than ME?"

Erik and Raoul looked at each other, their gazes met and they couldn't help laughing. Erik could barely hold on to the roof toss he was sitting on in his fit of laughter.

When they had recovered, Raoul offered: "Erik, come down. I won't allow anyone to touch you for now." Erik eyed him suspiciously. Should he trust his enemy? But then - according to Christine Raoul was a man of honour. Erik took a deep breath, exhaled slowly, then let himself fall backwards, causing the men who watched him carefully to gasp in shock for they expected him to fall to his head now and hurt himself. Erik didn't hurt himself, a backflip and he landed on his feet.

"Monsieur le Comte," Erik said with a little bow, "Care to tell me why you bother with scum like that?"

"It is my building project and I like his suggestions," Raoul explained. Both men knew that he wasn't just referring to the building project.

"You are aware that I cannot allow you to build a block of flats on the roof of a warehouse," Erik answered as a matter of fact.

Raoul nodded. Of course he had known all along, he had just thought this was a nice chance to get a little revenge on Erik. "Even if I offer you a small side job as consultant?" Raoul asked, testing Erik if he was corrupt. He was sure Erik as one of the most corrupt officials in France, maybe Europe.

"No, I don't take bribe money," Erik answered coldly, "But thank you. All I can do for you is offering a little advise - redesign the blueprints and build a hotel with a very big hall in the lobby. That is allowed. And if the lobby will unfortunately not be finished and will be used as a depot until it might eventually be finished in the future and the unfinished hotel rooms would be rent as flats - well, that's not my problem."

Raoul stared at his adversary, not able to hide his astonishment. Erik's idea was legal - not really correct but legal and he would get a block of flats on top of a warehouse - only the facade would look like a hotel.

"May I ask why your name was nowhere on the request?" Erik asked, curious how he could have missed such an important detail.

"It's my sister's property, I just manage it since I am the head of the family."

Erik smirked. "Have you ever been to Austria? They have a proverb that temporary solutions are most durable."

Raoul raised an eyebrow, not sure if Erik was offering him some sort of truce or if that was another challenge. "Are you referring to the property or to one more personal arrangement?" the young man asked dryly. Erik just shrugged and kept silent. Raoul decided to accompany Erik to the street to make sure no fight would be started now.

"Thank you for saving me from the street robbers," Erik said and took off his hat.

"Thank you for not accepting bribery," Raoul answered, "But I still hate you and can't wait to attend to your funeral."

Some hours later the Comte de Chagny saw Erik again, Erik didn't wear his mask but his false nose but there was no way mistaking him for another person. Only then Raoul noticed that Erik limped and leaned heavily on his cane. He told the driver to pull to the side and stop, then he got out of the carriage and approached Erik.

"Not you again," Erik groaned.

"I was about to say the same," Raoul answered, then pointed to Erik's leg, "What happened?"

Erik shrugged and answered lightly: "I'm a bit out of training." He would not admit that he had made a mistake landing after his backflip and twisted his left ankle. It hurt, he was still able to walk, but it hurt badly and he knew it would take a week until he would be able to walk without pain. Of course he would not show any weakness in front of his enemy.

"Why did you give me a very useful advise after I laid that trap?" Raoul asked.

Erik stopped and lowered his head, as he answered, "I am deep in your dept. You paid for the doctor and the nurse when Christine was so sick and you never called your money in. And that is just the tip of the iceberg - what I have done to you is unpardonable and I know I deserve capital punishment. But I plan to get away from any human justice, though I'm afraid I won't be able to get away from divine justice."

Raoul stared at Erik, not knowing if he could believe one of his words. Either Erik had really changed or he was trying to lure him into yet another trap. What was that monster up to now?

Erik nodded sadly, then turned to walk away. "I didn't really expect you to believe me," he whispered, "Just try not to let your hatred - which I deserve - taint your friendship with Christine. She loves you so much."

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 _For those who understand German: "Provisorien halten ewig." That's a well-known proverb. ;-)_


	96. Chapter 96

**Madness and Hope**

Some time before Easter Christine noticed that Erik was wearing brown boots to his grey suit, this wasn't like him, usually he his dressing was flawless. "Erik, since when do you wear brown boots?" she asked, curiously.

"I need them to support my ankle - and I can't afford new boots like these, they are quite expensive, so I have to use my old workmen's boots," Erik answered matter-of-factly.

"Are you hurt?" she asked worriedly.

"No, my dear, it's nothing. I slipped and now my ankle is a bit sensitive, that's all. I just need sturdy shoes, that's all."

"Wouldn't you prefer back ones?" Christine asked, she knew Erik had gone from wearing only black suits to mostly grey or dark blue but brown shoes just didn't fit.

"I don't have the money," Erik snapped, irritated. Why couldn't she just leave it at that? He certainly would not ask her for anything.

"But I have," Christine said gently, "I earn so much and all I pay is the maid - you pay for everything else, including my clothing. So why shouldn't I return the favour?"

"Because you should save your money. My dear, there will be a time when I am no longer there to care for you and I certainly cannot count on another man to care for you then - better for you if you have the means to care for yourself then. Darling, I am fiftyfive now, most men die between sixty and seventy - did you know that?"

"Fiftyfive? Then you had birthday in the last weeks?"

Erik shrugged. "My birthday does not matter. Forget it."

"It does to me, Erik," Christine answered, not knowing if she should be angry with him for being so secretive or if she should pity him for he really did not even consider his birth being something important. She decided she would not let go of it. "Okay, then I owe you a birthday present. Let's go to buy you new shoes - and a light grey suit as well, I guess you look less terrifying in light grey than in dark colours."

"You owe me nothing," Erik refused, his voice harsh, "I am not a beggar, I can care for myself."

Christine rolled her eyes. Right now his manly pride was getting in her way. Of course it must be very hard for him to see his wife earning so much more than he did when he was supposed to be the one providing everything for his family. "But I want to!" she insisted.

"My dear, you better use that money to buy something for yourself", Erik refused again, this time less harshly.

"Very well, I'll buy a light grey suit for you and a dress made of the same fabric for me and black shoes for both of us. Then we can wear them going to church," she suggested.

Erik gave in with a laugh: "You always have to have it your way, don't you?"

"Look who's talking!"

Going to a tailor was something Erik really did not like, he hated to have someone touching him, taking measures. He would rather buy clothes that were already done - and mostly they didn't fit because they were either too large or too short. He'd rather wear too large clothes than have a stranger touch him.

"Don't be childish," Christine teased playfully, "Or I take the measures - but then you can be sure that nothing would fit anyway!"

"Are all wives that demanding?" Erik complained.

"YOU wanted the primadonna, didn't you? Now stop whining and come with me!"

Only when they were at the tailor's Christine did finally understand Erik's reluctance to go there. Erik was not used to being touched and his discomfort was obvious - worse than that the tailor and his apprentice discussed if it was possible to make a suit for a man with such unusual measures. They did not know that Erik and Christine had a very good sense of hearing and got every word - most people wouldn't have heard anything but a murmur.

Christine enjoyed her meeting with the dressmaker and then went into a lengthy discussion with the dressmaker and the tailor to make sure her dress and Erik's suit would match. Erik got himself a newspaper, sitting down and hiding behind a newspaper was the best he could do right now. He wasn't the only husband to sit there and wait for his wife to finish the lengthy discussion with a tailor.

When the dressmakers apprentice asked him something about sewing patterns for his daughter he snarled furiously: "She's my WIFE, you disrespectful imbecile!" The other two men who were waiting for their wives as well stared at him open-mouthed. They could not understand how such an ugly old man could have this exceptional beauty as his wife. There was a certain envy and admiration in their stares as Christine took Erik's arm and they left the shop together, a proud grin on Erik's face. Now this was something he could enjoy.

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 _In case you've missed it: Erik hurt his ankle and it is sensitive since then. He has to wear sturdy boots but at that time these shoes were expensive (they still are, if you want high-quality) and right now he can't afford new ones._


	97. Chapter 97

**Madness and Hope**

On Holy Thursday Christine met Raoul at the cafe again. This was some sort of ritual by now - they would meet, have tea together and talk. They could talk about almost everything and mostly they would indulge in reminisceres, remembering their happy childhood, but they discussed almost everything - the society gossip, the political and economical situation, arts, and, of course, their personal life.

"I didn't know Erik was that old," Christine said, "I had assumed him to be fortysomething."

"That's good news," Raoul said, the older Erik was, the sooner Christine would be a widow.

"Raoul! Don't you think it is cruel to talk like that?" Christine asked.

"I'm sorry, you are right. I didn't mean to upset you."

"You have done for me so much, Raoul, I feel guilty for I cannot do anything for you," Christine went on sadly.

The young Comte took her hand gently and kissed her fingers. "You gave your life for mine."

"O Raoul, we have had this talk too often. You know that you are my very best friend but I am married to him now - you really should stop waiting for me. I want you to be happy and I can assure you that Erik isn't the monster he was once."

"How can I be happy without you? No, Christine, I do not want any other woman. I'll wait for you as I promised."

"But Raoul, how can you marry an opera singer who isn't even a virgin? You deserve so much better..."

"I decide what I deserve and no one else!" Raoul exclaimed passionately. Christine looked around worriedly if anyone had overheared but the other couples were too busy with their own talk to even notice.

"Your husband told me not to let my hate for him affect my friendship to you," Raoul said, his brow furrowed, "I have no idea what to make of it."

Christine stared at him. "He said WHAT?" She couldn't believe Erik would say anything other than 'she's mine' or 'stay away from my wife' to Raoul.

"He said you loved me," the young Comte answered, "I have no idea why he would do that."

They fell silent for a long time, both deep in thought. Then Christine asked: "Did I ever tell you the name he chose for his first-born son?" Raoul shook his head and put down his teacup. "He named him Phillippe," Christine whispered.

"PHILLIPPE? I'll kill that bastard! Now he's gone too far, once and for all, I'll..."

"Raoul, please!" Christine tried to calm him before he would embarass himself in public. "I do not think Erik meant that as an insult. He himself does not know why he picked that name."

Raoul shook his head. "He's mad, that's all. My poor Christine, married to a madman."

"Please, not this again! I told you he doesn't abuse me. We can't change the past, only the future. So please stop trying to persuade me to leave him. Raoul, my dear Raoul, would you want a wife who is already guilty of adultery? I won't leave him, I won't ask for a divorce, so please don't push me."

"You want me to say something nice about him? Well, I had quite a run-in with him in his official duty and I was surprised to find him dutiful and correct."

Christine smiled proudly. "Thank you for telling me," she said, "This means so much to me that you told me! Thank you!"

"Maybe we should leave that topic and talk about something more pleasant. How's the rehearsal for Othello?" Raoul really had heared more than enough about Erik.

"Great! I'm sure it will be a great success. We have a new tenor at the opera, he's very good as Othello and our voices are in harmony. I only wish it would be concert performance for his acting is really poor. And what about you? You told me of a new enterprise increase the value of your family's property - everything okay?"

"A little delay because of some really unnecessary requirements from the building authority, but then... yes, I guess it will be sucessful. We are ahead of the time schedule for now, I didn't expect the authority to work that efficient. Another project is the renovation of my Chateau here in Paris. I could use a womanly advise on tapestry and stucco. I have no talent for that."

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 _A very short chapter today. Have a nice weekend and please review! Next chapter will be up on Monday!_


	98. Chapter 98

**Madness and Hope**

Good Friday Erik and Christine went to the church, both dressed in black as all people that day. Despite the warm weather Erik wore a scarf and a fedora, which helped him to conceal his face and his mask. He was in quiet and thoughtful mood that day, Christine assumed this to be a good omen. She knew there was enough on Erik's conscience he had to atone for and as far as she knew he had never gone to confession. Maybe he would that day?

During mass she noticed that Erik sang in a way that his voice seemed to be coming from the altar. What was he doing? Playing his old tricks in a church? Even he couldn't have the audacity to amuse himself with his tricks in a church. But his voice was so beautiful, it seemed to hold not only her but most of the people there captive. He poured so much emotion into that rather simple hymnus, made it sound like it came from heaven. He could make any melody sound beautiful - even the most simple popular tune. Making a hymn sound like it came directly from heaven was something to be expected from him.

When it was time for the communion, Christine rose from her seat and went to the altar. She was surprised to see Erik following close behind her. He had taken off his hat and his scarf, revealing his fawn mask. She could almost feel the stares of the other people like tiny whips lashing on their backs and there was a soft murmur. Even in a church Erik could not simply attend without being mocked, stared at and talked about. She wondered briefly if it would have helped if he wore only his false nose and not the full mask, but from her experience there wasn't much difference in people's reactions.

Erik knelt down beside Christine and she saw tears in his eyes. He was attentive and calm during the communion although there was an awkward moment when he had to lift the cloth of his mask so he could take the piece of bread since the cleric did not simply hand him the bread - the faithful were not allowed to touch the bread with their hands, only with their lips. They could hear the murmur from the people but a stern look from the cleric stopped them from gossiping. Christine noticed that Erik was trembling and sweat was tickling down his neck.

Erik had a hard time surpressing the urge to run or to attack, like all his instincts told him to do. He hated to be exposed to the stares of the masses and he was scared that some of them might attack him later. It had been a mistake to go with Christine for she might be a potential victim too if anyone knew they were married. Better she left the church alone and pretended not to know the strange man in the mask who had been next to her by chance.

When they were back to their place hidden behind the column Erik whispered: "I want to go to confession afterwards - please do not wait for me, it will take a long time. If anyone asks, you do not know me at all."  
"Erik, why?"  
"Because they already started staring and gossiping. I'm scared this might escalate and we are saver if we split up until they are gone. It isn't as if I wouldn't need to go to confession," Erik whispered softly, his trembling hands fumbling for his lasso and the knifes in his pockets. It was good to know that he had his weapons, he even had his throwing knifes and a gun. "I should not have exposed myself," Erik muttered, "But I wanted to share this with you. I'm sorry for placing you in danger."

"I do not think we are in any danger. Even if there are rogues among them, they wouldn't do anything in church at Good Friday. We just have to wait in line at the confessional box and leave the church last," Christine suggested. She was sure that Erik was just being paranoid. Surely no one would even think of attacking them - why should they? Erik had in no way been provocative, on the contrary, he was trying to stay out of anyone's way.

They had to wait quite a long time for there were many other people who wanted to go to confession and Erik insisted on letting everyone go before him, he stayed hidden and waited. Christine did not understand his paranoia - of course it was humiliating to be stared at and hear people talk behind his back, but why was he so afraid they might risk physical violence? Most people didn't even consider using violence. Christine decided not to wait until no one else was there. She went to the confession, then to the graveyard.

She saw the sunlight shining through the fresh green leaves of the tree, these young leaves had a beautiful green colour, and went to the grave. She had brought a blue silk ribbon she wanted to leave there. She wasn't surprised to find a lantern with a candle there. She knew Erik would visit the graveyard regularly and briefly she wondered how it would have been to have a child. Considering Erik's reaction to the children in the train she wasn't sure if Erik would be able to raise a child or if he would insist in beating it into absolute submission while forcing it to learn and practice like an adult, so that the child would never be allowed to play with other children or behave like a child. But then... she would have never dared to hope that Erik might be an acceptable husband but he was. Strange, unusual, sometimes terrifying and she had to be careful around him for his temper was still unpredictable, but he didn't abuse her and he tried his best to be good to her.

Erik came after a while to join her. He smiled when he saw the blue silk ribbon, but he said nothing.  
"You didn't keep me waiting that long," she stated, for lack of a better greeting.  
"I did the confession in the easiest way - instead of confessing what sins I had committed I simply said that it was likely there wasn't a sin I did not commit," Erik answered without looking at her.  
"But... that is not true, isn't it? Surely there must be something you didn't do?" Christine asked, suddenly terrified it might be true.  
Erik chuckled. "Maybe. But that does not matter. You see - I'm still not convinced that God exists but I am not convinced he doesn't exist either. Maybe I can explain it like that: Two men, one a Christian, one an atheist, both will die sometimes. If the atheist was right and the Christian wrong, both will never know for the moment their heart stops everything will be over. But if the Christian was right and the atheist wrong, then the atheist is in deep trouble once he's dead. You see - I am just an opportunist." He turned to look at her and added softly: "But every time I see you as my loving wife I think that since I have experienced a miracle I should really be faithful. You know, I always prayed that I would one day have someone who loved me. And you do love me, maybe not as much as I hoped for, but I guess I have to be grateful for what I can get."

Christine did not answer. It was a statement from him, not a question, and she did not know what to say.

On their way home they passed a group of children playing on the street. When they came closer, one boy yelled: "Look - he's a mask!" And immediately their attention was on Erik, who turned away as much as he could. He did not like the way the children stared at him. Then one boy picked up a stone and threw it at him. He missed, but Erik spun round furiously, the children backed away, but since there were many other people on the street he did not dare do anything - the others would only see a man in a mask attacking a child and this would do no good. He clenched his fists and turned round to walk away.  
"Yes, away with you, scare-crow!" one child mocked and the others joined "Scare-crow, scare-crow!"

Christine saw Erik tense, but he did not turn round again or show any other reaction than clenching his fists and grounding his teeth. She put her hand on his arm. Erik looked at her and saw tears in her eyes. He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. There was nothing he could do - not with so many people in the street. He hated being helpless, but right now he could do nothing but endure the humiliation and keep walking away.

When they came home, Erik let himself slump down on the couch, his masked face in his hands. "I wish you didn't have to see this," he whispered, the shame and the humiliation still burning.  
"No, actually I am glad I saw this. Maybe now I understand you better," she answered, "It is sad to see that no one scolded these children for their bad behaviour."  
"Because no one thinks this IS bad," Erik replied bitterly, "If I had done anything to protect myself, everyone would assume I had attacked them. Throwing stones at a monster is not bad, a monster raising his hand to a child, that is bad. I can't kill them all and, to be true, I don't even want to do so any more. I just want to be left alone, I'm too weary to fight any longer." He tried to laugh but it came out more like a sob.  
"Poor Erik," Christine said softly, taking his hand, "There is no need to be ashamed. It is not your fault, they did wrong. I have to admit there was a moment when I thought you would hurt them and I am proud of you for you didn't."

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	99. Chapter 99

**Madness and Hope**

Christine noticed that Erik was unusually quiet that afternoon. Was this due to the fact that it was Good Friday or to what happened on their way home? The way he tried to avoid talking to her told her, he had to tell her something he would rather not tell her. Had he done something?

"Erik?" she asked, as she found Erik sitting at the kitchen table, sketching something in his notebook.  
"What can I do for you?" he replied without looking up. She noticed how far away from his face he held the notebook. Was he farsighted? In his age it would be unusual not to have some ametropia.  
"You want to tell me something?" she asked.

His head went up and he stared at her as if he had been caught in the act. "I... maybe... How do you know?" he stuttered.  
"Usually you always try to spend as much time as possible at my side. You only avoid me when there is some topic to discuss you don't like. What is it?"  
"Am I that predictable?" Erik asked annoyed. It was more than enough to have the Daroga, he didn't need his wife as a watchdog too.

"No change of topic. What is it?" she asked. She wanted to get it over with.  
Erik gave in with a sigh. "Nothing bad. It's just that I dislike that topic. My dear, you know I am fiftyfive. Normally men die between sixty and seventy, so I have reason to assume I might not live long enough to see any child - if God blesses us with one - grow up to adulthood. I can't count on SOMEONE ELSE to raise my child and I can't avoid my death. All I can do is provide something that would help you, give you an reliable income no matter how long you want to sing at the opera. That I can do."

"Whew. I understand why you dislike talking about this," Christine answered, taken aback by how much Erik had grown to be reasonable, "But how could you provide an income if you...?" She didn't want to speak of his death, she suddenly feared the day she would lose him forever.  
"That's a long story, and not one I'm proud of. You want to hear it?"  
Christine nodded, bracing herself to hear another story about a crime Erik had committed.

"Well, when Erique Davisseau moved to Paris to be a contractor, his first order was to build two blocks of flats in Montmatre for a man named Francois Rieoux. They had quite a deal, those flats were rented out and there was no trouble at all with the tenants for if they wouldn't pay or behave badly, Rieoux had access to every flat through the large columns which were hollow and... well, it was easy to persuade tenants to leave or to pay. That project was such a success that they decided to create a second project like that one, only larger, with eight blocks of flats at the outskirts of Paris," Erik stopped in his tale and got up to prepare tea. He liked herbal tea and he needed time to think how much he could tell her without risking her being angry with him.

When Christine said nothing, just looked at him, expecting him to go on, he did: "Francois bought that property, but the project was never started. You see, that was the year Erique Davisseau won the contract for building the foundations of the new opera and he lost all interest in any other projects. Francois disappeared, but he is still the owner of that property."

"And now you plan to start that project? Francois Rieoux must be a rich man?" Christine asked.

"Actually, no," Erik chuckled, "You see, Francois Rieoux is another one of my surrogate names. I didn't want to have the property in the same name as my construction enterprise to minimize the risk if I should fail with contracting."  
"O" Christine's eyes widened. She had guessed that Erik might have more names but not that he would own large properties. If he did - why didn't he use it?

"Well, I finished the blueprints for the eight blocks of flats. The problem is, I do not have any money to fund that project and of course I am not allowed to since I am working for the building authority now. Well, here is the deal: Francois Rieoux will sell the property to Madame Christine Davisseau along with the plans which are signed by the architect Guillaume de Coudrier, stating in the contract that he already got his money. You won't have to pay one Franc, don't worry. By the way, Baron de Coudrier is another one of my surrogate names. There was a real Baron de Coudrier, he was an impoverished drug addict. He sold me his identity for a generous supply of drugs."

Christine didn't know what to make of this story. She did understand why it came in handy for Erik to have a fake identity as a nobleman - even an impoverished one - because the title itself would open some doors which would otherwise have been closed forever.

"Why didn't you use the name Baron de Couldrier or Rieoux when you married me?" she asked curiously.  
"Because as Rieoux I have to masquerade as one legged cripple and that is very uncomfortable and the name de Couldrier would send me directly to a prison cell - but they aren't looking for de Couldrier because everyone assumes he committed suicide in 1872. The real de Couldrier died long ago," Erik said as a matter-of-fact and blew at his teacup.  
Christine understood nothing. Erik's past was even more a riddle than before. The more he told her, the less she actually knew. She asked him if he simply told her some of his stories to confuse her.

"O no, my dear, this is the truth. I used the name Guillaume de Coudrier during war and the commune - these were cruel times and I was a cruel man. The details are nothing for your beautiful ears and your kind and pure heart. O please, don't give me that disgusted look again, I swear to you I did not kill de Coudrier, I just supplied him with drugs and he took an overdose. He had the perfect life for a drug addict - a quiet room where he could kill himself slowly with his drugs and no one would disturb him. I got his identity in return and we were both very happy with that deal," Erik went on, "By the way, Baron de Coudrier was one of Davisseau's sub-contractors." Erik grinned. He could pretend to be a group of businessmen and at that time he had loved it. The only thing he could not help was being ugly. All of them - Francois, Erique and Guillaume - had been such ugly men that no decent woman would want to have a date with them. Erique - false nose, false moustache - was the easiest mask to put on, Francois, false nose, glasses, false beard, wig, the left leg bend at the knee and tied back, was the hardest. Guillaume looked very much like Erique, only that the false nose was a bit larger and the beard and the wig was grey instead of brown.

Erik's eyes darkened as he went on: "When working at the opera I forgot everything else, when I became the Phantom I did no longer care... Of course I remembered when we were planning our marriage, but... I didn't tell you before because when Francois bought that property he used very aggressive bargaining techniques. He... he threatened the previous owner he would harm his family if he wouldn't sell the property at a cheap price. I am glad the man didn't risk trying if it was an empty threat."  
"I'd call it blackmail," Christine said sternly, "And it was not some Francois who did this but you!"  
"Yes, right," Erik reluctantly agreed, "But that was before you were even born. What remains is that I want you to have the blueprints and the property. That would allow you - if you find a business associate who is willing to invest enough money - a reliable income without any need to work. Of course you would have to share with your partner, but better get one half than nothing, right?"

Christine said nothing. She didn't want to benefit from any crime, no matter it had been committed long ago. "I thought you had considered yourself honest when you were a contractor?" she asked.  
"Yes, because I paid the price, a cheaper one, yes, but I paid. If I had not cared about being a criminal I would simply have forced him to sign the contract and then killed him," Erik defended himself, but he wasn't sure if this wouldn't make it worse. Before Christine could start scolding him again he said: "I know this was wrong and if I had any chance to make amends I would do so but... I never cared to find out where they are now and if someone of that family is still alive. Many things happened 1871 and many people died. There is no way of finding them now, more than twenty years later." He shook his head and added silently that he had no intention to make amends now, certainly not, he would never try to find these people. Let them stay lost, this was the best for everyone.

"I don't want that property," she retorted, "What happened to Montmatre?"  
"That is no longer mine. The war... Montmatre was hit very hard and the buildings were destroyed. I had neither the money nor the time to rebuild them so I sold these," Erik answered. At least this was nothing to be ashamed of. "I want you to have this property and the blueprints. Please. I would feel much better if I knew that I do not have to fear dying for I knew I wouldn't leave you as a poor widow. Please, my dear, I need to do this, for you and... for any child we might have in the future."

"I need to think about this," Christine answered, "Would you mind sleeping in your own room the next nights? I need some privacy."  
"Whatever you want," Erik answered as he hung his head, he had counted on her banishing him from her room again once he had made this confession, but it was necessary. He wanted to get this done. "May I... um... nevertheless..." he stammered, not daring to ask if he would get a good night kiss nevertheless.

She understood him. "No. Please, I need to think and I can't kiss you after hearing gruesome details of your past. I'm sorry," she refused.  
"Christine, please. If I could choose I'd prefer..." he tried to look up to her, which was not easy when both were sitting at the table for he was taller than her.  
"Prefer what?" she asked, afraid he might finally grow tired with her reluctance to give him the tender touches he so craved.  
"The whip. Beat me all you like, but then be good again," he answered in a childlike voice, "I know you need to punish me, to unleash your anger at me, but please not this!"

Christine stared at him. This was Erik, her Erik, the man who could be such a cruel monster, a cunning businessman and right now he was just a frightened child, panicked by the mere thought of not being allowed to kiss his mother, for right now he did behave as if she was his mother and not his wife. Sometimes she wondered if he would ever grow up. As she saw tears welling up in his amber eyes her heart went out to him. "Very well. One kiss, nothing more." He let out a relieved sigh and she couldn't help smile at him. He wasn't bad to the core. He wasn't a good man, but he wasn't bad to the core. He wanted to give her his property, something he could easily have used for himself, to secure her future when he was dead. She knew this had been a very hard decision to make for him and it showed her that he truly cared for her. She was not sure if she could accept that most generous gift, but could she refuse it? He was giving her so much, she felt guilty for being angry with him, and yet she couldn't help feeling bad about what he had told her. She was so confused, she needed time to think. But she couldn't do anything he would regard as punishment when he was giving her a great gift.

"Erik?"  
"Hmmm?"  
"Thank you. I am really grateful and I want you to know that I just need some time to think because I am confused. I am not angry with you, on the contrary, I am grateful. Thank you."  
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	100. Chapter 100

**Madness and Hope**

Easter Sunday was a grey and rainy day, but Erik didn't mind - on the contrary, he liked the rain for he could easily wear his hat and his scarf, making him look a bit more normal. He wore that grey suit Christine had bought for him, as she was wearing her grey dress with a fitting hat. They really looked like a couple now, some weird couple, but everyone could see that they somehow belonged together. It wasn't raining but the grey clouds hung deep and nearly everything looked grey on this morning.

Christine noticed that Erik still wore those heavy boots which supported his ankle, obviously he still hadn't recovered fully. They went to the church, Erik was this time even more cautious to arrive early, as early as possible, so he would not be seen. Christine took their usual place but Erik insisted he would hide somewhere else to make sure he would not repeat his mistake from Good Friday and bring them in danger. He had asked the cleric to allow them some sort of private Communion after mass, when he wouldn't be forced to expose himself. Even Christine didn't know where exactly Erik was hiding. He must have been somewhere, for she heard him singing, his angelic voice giving the hymn a new quality of praise and worship. She knew he was singing like he would have been on stage and she was quite sure that he enjoyed how the other voices fell silent, one after the other, until it was only him and Christine left to sing the last lines of the hymn. Well, this was surely not what a hymn was intended to be sung like, but Erik definitely was the best singer she had ever heard.

After the mass and their private Communion they went home, Erik wanted to fetch his violin case and then show her his favourite place in the Bois de Boulogne, close to the water but still hidden beneath trees. Since it was not raining he wanted to play the violin for her. He had hoped for this Sunday to be a sunny day in spring, but now it was a grey one. That was fine as well, for there would be less people. Less people, less mockery and less trouble.

They went to the Bois, with the usual trouble of people staring and pointing at Erik. He tried to ignore them but he heard what they were talking behind his back and it filled him with hurt and shame. "It's not my fault I have to wear a mask," he whispered, more to himself than to anyone else, "So I do not have to be ashamed." It didn't help much. He still felt that burning shame, the humiliation and ridicule hurt and he felt mortal shame. Why couldn't he overcome this terrible feeling of being something less than any other man? He knew he was a genius, he knew he would outsmart almost everyone if he just wanted to do so, but he would forever be the one even the lowest beggars would look down at, as if he was less than human and he was ashamed of it, even more than of all the sins he had committed.

"Erik, are you okay?" Christine asked. She had noticed how he suddenly walked with his head low, trying to avoid anyone and going out of anyone's way. He shook his head and did not answer. "Erik, what is it?" she asked again, wondering why he was so depressed now.  
Erik took her to the little bench at the artificial lake by the artificial waterfall. They sat down, only then did Erik answer: "I'm sorry. I wanted this to be a nice day for us, but look - every minute it might start raining and... and you have to be here with me and I am just a sorry excuse for a man. Did you hear what they said about me, about you? All this mockery, the humiliation... You deserve better than that."  
"Please, Erik, stop your self-loathing. It won't help you. Look, this place is beautiful, even when the sun is not shining. We are more or less in private, with this weather not many people feel drawn to the water," Christine answered, not sure how to react to this new fit of self-loathing from Erik, "Can't we just try to make the best of it?"  
"Well, at least no one is throwing stones..." Erik smirked, then he took his violin and started playing a soft melody. He was again improvising again, just playing a melody that would match his mood. It was a soft, sad melody full of longing, it made Christine want to take him in her arms and comfort him like a child. She looked up at him and noticed that he was watching her closely. She smiled at him and immediately his tune changed from minor to major. She could see in his eyes that he was smiling, but he was smiling with his music too.

"Pianissimo," he said, "I knew you would like it."  
"Still a bit sad, isn't it?" she asked, leaving it to him to guess if she meant him or the music, "It is Easter Sunday, isn't that a reason to be happy?"  
"You want me to rejoice?" Erik asked and changed his music again. This time his violin started singing out in pure joy, as if the sun was breaking through the clouds and shining on a beautiful flower field. Of course this did not happen, the clouds were still there, the music was so powerful it changed Christine's mood and Erik's as well.

They were so caught up in Erik's wonderful music they did not notice that the music drew in other people. They just heard the music and were curious who was playing for they liked it. They saw a strange couple, both dressed in the same colour - a light grey - and the man who was playing the violin was wearing a mask. There was a whisper among them, who he was and why he was wearing a mask but then, in the Bois de Boulogne many street artists performed their art, hoping to get a few coins from their audience. This couple was dressed far too fashionable to be mere street performers, but the man's mask on the other hand indicated that he indeed was a street performer and the mask part of his costume.

When the first raindrops fell, the masked man stopped playing. The small audience - mainly married couples who where enjoying the Easter Sunday in the park - applauded and Erik, who had forgotten where he was, jumped. He turned round and faced them, but these people didn't seem to be aggressive, no, they seemed to like his music. Their applause convinced him that they were simply mistaking him for a street artist. Well, better that than being mistaken for a robber or a thief. He looked to Christine, worried she might be embarrassed. Street artists weren't high in social hierarchy, they were somewhere just above beggars, for that was what society thought them to be - just beggars who had a little bit of pride left so they would try to pretend they were earning money when in truth they were living on charity. He didn't want to bring disgrace on her. Christine was laughing. She wasn't embarrassed at all, no, she seemed to enjoy the situation.

"Please don't stop playing," a young man said, "You're good. Over there is a cafe, maybe we can go there and play if the owner doesn't object?"  
"Yes, please, we would love to hear more!" an elderly woman said and some others clapped their hands.  
"Don't worry, we'll pay..." an elderly man with a grey beard promised.  
Erik refused embarrassed: "No, I'm not playing for money." He felt uncomfortable being reminded of his past as a street performer and someone of the travelling people. As much as he liked that they reacted positive to him he was afraid to disgrace himself and Christine.

"Erik, that would be a wonderful idea!" Christine exclaimed happily, "I'd love to hear an impromptu concert!"  
"I'm not sure..." Erik mumbled. He didn't like the idea of putting himself on display again, even if these people seemed to be members of the high society and were treating him with politeness.  
"Why not?" Christine asked happily, "Please, do it for me."  
"You know I can't refuse if you give me that look!"

The owner of the small cafe was easily persuaded to allow Erik to play for his little audience there. Business had been bad on that rainy day and these group of people were enough to fill almost every seat - and they knew how to behave, everyone ordered something to drink and some piece of cake.

Erik had to tune his violin again, but then he gave a small bow and started to play. He watched Christine closely and since she encouraged him to comply and play he did so. He liked the applause and the praise - he had almost forgotten what a warm and good feeling it was to hear the applause from an audience. He could almost enjoy this little concert - if it was not for his fear that they might demand he took off his mask.

After about an hour Erik said that he didn't want to play any more, causing them to ask for more, again and again. "I'm very sorry, but this is all I want to play today. Thank you for your kindness, but I will not play anything more today," he refused with a polite but commanding voice and put his violin back to the violin case.

"Then let us at least invite you to a drink," one man said.  
Before Erik could refuse Christine had accepted the invitation, she found this was the perfect opportunity to make new acquaintances. She always found it very easy to socialize, Erik mused and gave her an angry glance. He disliked being in public and now that the music he had used like a shield between him and the world was not there he felt even more uncomfortable. To refuse now after his wife had accepted would be a severe incivility and he gave in, well aware of the risk.

As he had feared it, one younger man asked him if he would not remove the mask now. Erik just folded the lower cloth of the mask up to free his lips but made no move to take off the mask, not even take off his hat he was still wearing. "No," he said firmly.  
The inevitable "why not?" came all too soon.  
"Because I do not want to," Erik snapped, no longer able to contain his frustration. Why couldn't there be just one day without anyone annoying him because of his looks?  
Christine gave him a little kick to the shin under the table, hoping to stop him from saying something that would destroy this otherwise really good day. "What my husband means is..." she started and Erik nearly choked on his coffee. How easily she had said the words "my husband"! He looked at the other people who had been listening to his music and were now staring at him and Christine. Christine went on: "...he's very sorry but he has his reasons and begs your indulgence but he cannot show his face." Her smile provoked a little bit of laughter, then the matter was settled. No one would be impolite enough to ask again. Noblesse oblige.

"I didn't know you were a musician?" a voice behind Erik startled him. He turned round just to see the head of the office with his wife - the woman even shorter and fatter that her husband.  
Erik mumbled something intelligible while his superior just took two chairs to join Erik and Christine at their table.  
"You think playing in a cafe is acceptable behaviour for an official?" he went on and Erik suddenly shuddered.  
"Why not?" Erik asked defiantly.

"Don't worry. Since you are wearing a mask I have no idea who you are," the short man went on, "It is such a shame I don't know anything about music." He winked conspiratorially at Erik and ordered coffee and cake for the four of them.  
"Thank you, but I already had..." Erik started to refuse but the short man wouldn't have it.  
"You two are too slim, you should eat more," he said, grinning, "So allow me to invite you."  
"Thank you very much," Christine cut in, smiling happily. She really enjoyed this.  
"Christine, don't you think we shouldn't eat two pieces of cake before noon?" Erik asked. He wanted to go home.  
"Why not?" Christine asked, grinning and the fat woman agreed.

They made a very strange sight those four people - two of them short and fat and two slim, although Christine wasn't tall, but Erik was, he was standing out again and he disliked it.

When Erik and Christine arrived at their home in the afternoon, neither of them felt like eating anything that day or maybe the next week. They had been invited to so many pieces of cake as they went from coffee to tea and then to cognac they just wanted to sit down, not move and inch and hoped to make it through this day without being sick. But this, as Christine pointed out, counted as a normal feeling on Easter Sunday, she had always eaten too much sweets on that day.

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 _I'll be quite busy the next few days - I won't be able to update as regularly as usual, but the next chapter will be up at Tuesday at the latest. I beg your indulgence._


	101. Chapter 101

**Madness and Hope**

Easter Monday was a holiday so Erik was at home all day but Christine would have to sing in the evening in Marriage of Figaro so she had to rest and let Erik prepare her. He so loved to prepare her for singing and regretted that he couldn't do it every day.

He allowed her to sleep as long as she could in the morning, then prepared a hearty breakfast for her, after that he made her sit down on the couch, relax, drink herbal tea and don't day anything while he told her stories or played the violin or just ran around fetching whatever she needed. He would have loved to massage her feet or her shoulders - yes, he would have loved to massage all of her body but that was a dream he didn't allow himself to think of - but he didn't dare ask her permission to do so. He had had to sleep in his own room since Good Friday and hoped he would be allowed to share her bed again if he somehow managed to appease her. He even sang for her some arias from Marriage of Figaro to get her in the right mood. Christine complimented him that it was a shame that it was impossible for him to sing on stage for he would outshine every other singer, including her.

Erik shook his head, but he wasn't sad, as he answered: "My dear, I had my fill of applause in my life. No, right now I appreciate to take a backseat. The less attention I get the better."

Then he turned to her, his voice suddenly stern: "Tomorrow after the rehearsal you will come to a notary. I made an appointment for you and Monsieur Rieux for five p.m."  
Christine's face fell - rehearsal was until four p.m. and then she had promised to meet Raoul and spend some time with him. "But... I already told Raoul..." she whispered, she neither wanted to miss her chat with Raoul, she really needed these few precious hours with him, but she wasn't sure how to tell Erik.  
"He has a carriage, right?" Erik asked coldly, "He could take you there, then invite you for dinner, then bring you home in the evening."  
"But Erik..." Christine started to protest, but Erik cut her short:  
"If he takes you there it will help my masquerade as Rieoux. Just don't tell him who really is the man behind that mask and that false name. You will have to behave like I was a complete stranger, can you do this for me?" Christine nodded, then tried to say something else, but Erik held up his hand and said: "You need to spare your voice. There is no need for any discussion right now, so just say nothing and let me prepare you for tonight's performance. Tomorrow is another day and we'll deal with that tomorrow. Yes, you can have dinner with your childhood friend tomorrow if you like to. I am willing to allow that. Next to the notary's is a nice restaurant, you may go there. He can take you home after dinner, if you like, you have my permission."

"You really allow me to have dinner with him?" Christine asked.  
"If you behave at the notary's office, yes," Erik answered, then gave a sigh, "My dear, I just want you to be happy."

* * *

That evening Christine was marvelous in her role as the Countess. Erik watched, as always, from his box with the Daroga.

"You are unusually quiet tonight," the Persian said, "Usually you don't make it through the Ouverture without some biting criticism."  
Erik turned his head slightly to see his friend's face. "I am working out plans how to make her a very rich widow," Erik answered sadly, "And this is very depressing."  
"Why would you...?"  
"My friend, I am fiftyfive years old. She's twenty. I will die long before her and there is nothing I can do about that. Since I prevented her from marrying the man she loved - and loves - and who would make her a rich woman I feel obliged to do what I can to care for her even after my death."  
Erik's resignation alarmed the Daroga. He had seldom seen his friend that resigned and depressed. "Erik, what is it? Something is wrong, tell me, what happened?" he asked worriedly.

"Nothing. I just realized that I am old and for the first time in my life I do not want to die," Erik replied, then looked at the stage again, ignoring all attempts of his friend to talk with him.

* * *

Christine was nervous the next day. It was a rehearsal for Othello but this time she couldn't really concentrate on the music for she was afraid if she would be able to play her role in Erik's scheme. She disliked it, she didn't want to have any role in his schemes and though she was the profiteer in this one, it wasn't right. She felt like she was committing a crime, making herself accomplice to a crime committed before she was born.

When Raoul met her at the side-entrance of the opera, she told him that there had been a change of plans, she had an appointment with a notary and afterwards they could have dinner together at the restaurant close to the notary's office.  
"Why?" Raoul asked worriedly, "Has something happened? Christine - something is wrong, I can see that in your face. What is it?"  
"Please, take me to that address," Christine said and handed Raoul a sheet of paper with an address - clearly Erik's handwriting, barely legible.  
"I can't decrypt that handwriting," Raoul said and handed the paper back to her. Christine needed a few minutes, then she told him the address.

Christine asked Raoul to accompany her in that appointment. She needed someone who could protect her if something bad happened.

When they arrived they saw a man getting out of a cab, that man had only one leg and moved with the help of two crutches. His movements were awkward and it was obvious that he was in pain. That man had long white hair tied back with a black ribbon and a long white beard. His nose was crooked like it had been broken and not properly healed. He had large glasses with a black spectacles frame. He carried a worn shoulder bag with him because he needed both hands to hold the crutches to steady himself or to walk.

"Monsieur Francois Rieoux?" Christine asked, her voice high-pitched and shaking, she was very nervous.  
The tall man, who was bent over a bit because the crutches were a bit short for him, tried to turn to her. It wasn't easy. "Madame Davisseau?" he asked back, his voice hoarse and gruff. If Christine hadn't known this was Erik she would never have recognized him. The left leg tied back, concealed under wide brown trousers and a long brown cloak, must cause him severe pain.  
"Yes," Christine answered, "And this is Raoul, Comte de Chagny."  
"A pleasure to meet you," Raoul said, not knowing why Christine was meeting that man.  
"Hmpf" came the only answer from the one-legged man, "Can't shake hands, sorry. Let's get this over with!"

The notary's office was in the second floor and it was painstaking for Erik to climb the staircase to the second floor, the exertion left him panting and sweating but he couldn't remove the wig or the false beard. His leg that was tied back was aching terribly and he knew the pain would grow worse. Soon he would not be able to endure it and have to give up the masquerade.

Raoul felt sympathetic for the old man who was clearly in pain and barely able to move and offered his help but Erik refused, not wanting to risk being recognized, therefore he could not simply tell Raoul to get lost.

The notary was an old man who knew Francois Rieoux from previous encounters twenty years ago and was surprised to see Rieoux again after so many years. The notary told his assistant to get an extra chair for Raoul and tea for all of them. When they all sat there with their tea, Christine noticed that Erik took much sugar, something she knew he normally wouldn't do. Obviously he was playing his role and Francois liked his tea with sugar. She was impressed how much Erik cared for details when playing a role. It was as if he really became another person.

The notary placed the papers on the table and read the contract to them, asking them to tell him if they didn't understand something or if there were any questions. Christine wondered how Erik could keep a straight face and not fall from his role when she was sitting next to Raoul. She had to admire Erik's acting skills.

"Wait a bit - you said the price has already been paid?" Raoul asked, not understanding this transaction. The whole contract was unusual, it was everything for the buyers benefit and the sellers disadvantage.  
"Yes, Monsieur Davisseau already paid," Erik grunted, he wasn't happy that Christine had taken Raoul with her. Couldn't that meddlesome fop have waited outside like a good dog for his mistress to return?

"Madame, may I tell you something in private?" Raoul asked, not daring to address Christine with her given name in public. Christine nodded and they went to an extra room. As soon as the door was closed Raoul said: "Christine, something is wrong here. Please, do not sign that contract!"  
"Why Raoul? What is wrong with that contract?" she asked. She had no experience at all with buying properties.  
"Almost everything! Whatever happens here, I'm sure Erik is up to something bad, I guess it is all a fraud and this poor old man is the victim. Erik uses you as stooge to keep his name clean - don't you see he's setting you up?" Raoul warned her and Christine could not hold back any longer.  
She laughed: "Raoul, no. Erik isn't betraying or blackmailing Francois Rieoux, you see, Erique Davisseau and Francois Rieoux are one and the same."

"What?" Raoul had to sit down to keep himself from falling. "THAT is Erik?"  
"His masquerade is perfect, even I wasn't sure it was really him," Christine answered, "You see - he's not setting me up, he's giving me a gift."  
"But... but how...?"  
"Erik has more than one identity and he told me about it. Raoul, please, this isn't bad. After what you said I know for sure that Erik is not trying to do anything bad now. Thank you for your concern, Raoul, but this really isn't dangerous to me. I will own a large property, surely this can't be bad for me, can it?"  
"That in itself - no. But what will you do with it?" Raoul asked.  
"He has thought of this before. He has plans for eight large blocks of flats that could be build there if I found an investor," she explained, "Or, if I do not find one, I could always sell the estate. Now, let's not discuss this any more. I have a contract to sign. But please, Raoul, do not let Erik know that you know who he really is! Please!"

Christine went back to the office, a warm smile on her face, then asked for a pen so she could sign the contract.  
"Thank you, Monsieur Rieoux," she said.  
"My pleasure, Madame," he replied without even looking at her, "My best regards to your husband." Christine noticed that he was already up from his chair. Of course - sitting with one leg tied back so it looked like as if it had been cut off at the knee must be terrible.

"Au revoire," Christine said, turning to go but Erik called out behind her:  
"Madame Davisseau, wait, there is something you have to know - The notary will take over now and do everything to make you the rightful owner of these parcels of land. When I bought them I had an architect draw plans for a building project - according to our contract I am to hand these plans over to you. I gave them to the notary, he will keep them until you need them. Your husband has a copy of them, he's an architect himself, ask him if you need anything. Madame, Monsieur, au revoire!"  
Raoul said nothing, unable to understand how anyone could play a role in real life like that. Erik WAS this Rieoux and Rieoux behaved nothing like Erik normally would.

When Raoul and Christine sat at the restaurant to have dinner, Raoul asked what that was all about and Christine explained to him that Erik was worried about her future for he would die long before her and therefore gave her the last valuable property he had.  
"But Christine, you know what will happen when he dies, don't you?" Raoul exclaimed, a bit louder than he had intended, then he lowered his voice again as he went on: "You will become my wife as soon as possible. Of course I understand that you will have to wait for a proper period of mourning, then you are my Countess de Chagny."  
"O Raoul, how often do I have to tell you to make your own life and not just wait for me?" Christine asked but she had to admit that his words felt so good, so warm and comforting, too good. Forbidden good.

"Until you are my wife," Raoul replied stubbornly.  
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 _For all who are still following my novel-length story: Thank you! Thank you very much! I really appreciate the many reviews! THANK YOU!_

 _And there are still some chapters to come..._


	102. Chapter 102

**Madness and Hope**

When Christine came home she found Erik lying on the couch, reading a book in a language she didn't understand. Erik wore reading glasses. She hadn't seen him wear them before but she knew he was far-sighted.

"Good evening, Madame," Erik said, sitting up. He put his book down and took off his glasses, then put on his mask.  
"Good evening," Christine replied, wondering why he called her "Madame".  
"Did you have a nice date?" Erik asked, his voice somewhat bitter and acid.

"That wasn't a date!" Christine nearly screamed. She felt like stomping her foot and slapping him. Why did he infuriate her so? "You know that I never told Raoul that I still love him. I always tell him that he's like a brother to me, nothing more, nothing less. And I keep telling him to find himself a women of his social class!"

"You do?" Erik asked surprised, "Well, he will not do that. He knows you love him."  
"I swear to you I never told him! I told him that I love you!" Christine answered, terrified he might get angry.  
Erik didn't get angry, he grew quiet. "I told him," he confessed sadly, "I guess we both are really good in screwing things up."

"Did you eat something?" Christine asked for lack of a better theme.  
"No," Erik answered and something in his voice told her that she better be very careful around him this evening, "I waited for my dear wife to come home. I want you to make scrambled eggs for me."  
"Of course," Christine answered, how could she deny his request when it was her duty as his wife? She went to the kitchen to fire the wood-burning stove. She found that Erik had already placed everything she would need on the table. When she stirred the two eggs in the pan she noticed that Erik came to the kitchen and sat down at the table, watching her closely.

"You have glasses?" she asked, trying to start a conversation.  
"Yes," Erik replied, "I often get headache working on blueprints or reading. I went to a doctor and he suggested that since my far-sightedness has grown worse, maybe if I use glasses my headache would get better."  
"Does it help?"  
"For today, yes."  
"How's your leg?" she asked.  
Erik barked a laugh. "Still hurting, especially my knee. I can't believe I could wear this masquerade for more than six hours twenty years ago. As far as I remember it wasn't that painful then."

They fell silent again, then Christine put the scrambled eggs on a plate, sliced a piece of bred and put both on the table before Erik.  
"Am I to eat like a dog?" he asked icily and she noticed she had forgotten to give him a fork and a knife. She placed both beside his plate and handed him a napkin. He grumbled something that might be understood as "thank you".  
"Do you want something to drink?" she asked.  
"Look who's learning her duties," Erik mocked, "Yes, I do. Give me a glass of wine." He nodded to the bottle on the shelf. Christine got up and opened the bottle, which was already half empty, and poured him a glass. She had no idea what he was up to now. Was he finally tired of doing the cooking? Or did he want to establish his position as the head of the family? She made sure to give him only a little bit of wine. When he was in a foul mood alcohol would only make him aggressive.  
"A bit stingy, are we?" Erik mocked, but he did not insist on more wine.

When he had finished eating he sat back in his chair, staring at her like a hawk. It made her uncomfortable.  
"What?" she snapped irritated.  
"I want to share your bed again," he said, "unless you object?"  
Christine gave a sigh. Now finally he had told her what he really wanted. Should she answer like a dutiful wife and say yes? She slept much better when she was alone in her bed but she knew that his sleep was better when she was at his side. A dilemma, they couldn't both have it their way. Obviously she took too much time thinking for he snapped: "I guess you don't want me in your bed. You are really ungrateful! Now that I gave you everything I have you deny me the simple joy of being at your side."

"Erik, I am very grateful and of course you can sleep in my bed again," she answered, knowing he would get up very early, she would have at least four hours to sleep alone in her bed.  
"If I have to beg for being allowed in your bed I guess I mustn't ask for more," he snapped. Now he was getting to his point. He wanted her to fulfill her wifely duties but this time he didn't want to try to seduce her or beg. She was appalled by his rude behaviour and surely did not want him to touch her now.  
"No" she whispered, remembering herself that he had promised never to force her. Would he keep his promise?

"What a pity," he answered coldly, "Today would be the perfect day."  
"What? Why?" she asked dumbfounded. He blushed, she could tell from the colour of his ears. "No! Please tell me you are not keeping track of my time every month!" she whispered disgusted by the mere thought of it. The way he lowered his head and looked aside in shame told her that he had been doing exactly that. She shuddered.

Suddenly Erik's bluster was gone and he seemed to shrink under her gaze. "I want a child," he whispered, "And I do not want to trouble you too often."  
"No. After your behaviour this evening - forget it!" she hissed.  
"You dare refuse me?" he asked, his voice the rich threatening voice that had scared everyone at the opera.  
"I do," she answered with much more bravery than she actually felt. She knew he had every right to force her then and there, she was his wife, she had no right to refuse.

Erik clenched his fists and turned away. "I see. You are testing me. Very well, have it your way. Have a good night, I see you tomorrow at the opera!" He went to his room and slammed the door shut. He had not kissed her, she thought horrified, just how angry was he?

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 _Erik is in a bad mood, he's fed up being nice - but bullying Christine is certainly nothing that would get her to desire him._


	103. Chapter 103

**Madness and Hope**

Christine woke in the night because she felt something touch her cheek. She could guess it was Erik who had sneaked into her room to say goodby before he went to work. Not wanting him to notice that she was awake she controlled her breathing and kept her eyes closed.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, barely audible, "Yesterday I felt like I was the only one giving and you were the only one receiving in our marriage. This is not true, I know that, but... my feelings do not obey my rational thoughts." She felt the touch of his fingers on her shoulder as he caressed her so lightly he wouldn't have woken her if she had been sleeping. Did he do that often, she wondered? Come to her when she slept, telling her what he couldn't tell her face to face, touching her, kissing her?

"I love you," he said, his lips touching her forehead. She pretended to be asleep when she heard him shut the door. He left the house almost noiselessly, only a slight click told her that he locked the door behind him.

When Christine woke she found that Erik had left her breakfast at her night table as he always did. She half expected a letter with an excuse but there wasn't. Obviously he did not feel like apologizing just yet. That day was the last rehearsal before the premiere of the new production of Othello on Saturday. She wasn't nervous, she knew her role and it wasn't difficult to act the part of Desdemona. She just had to think of Erik's terrifying temper tantrums and fits of rage - she knew only too well what Desdemona was going through, although Erik hadn't killed her.

After the rehearsal she met Raoul at the cafe. Raoul smiled as she took her place opposite him.

"I've seen your new estate," he said, grinning, "I couldn't help being nosy. It is... covered with bushes and trash, some clochards put up makeshift tents there, it had been neglected for decades." He took a sip from his teacup. "But I have to admire Erik's intuition, he bought that before 1862, then it was just somewhere in the outskirts and not really preferable quarters. But now the city of Paris is growing and I have to admit a rather pleasant quarter is being build very close to your estate. Wait ten more years and your property's worth increases tenfold."

"I guess I am a rich woman then," Christine said uncomfortably. She still did not like the way Erik had acquired that property.

"How was the rehearsal?" Raoul asked.

"Well, sometimes I wonder if the opera will ever be free of Erik. Today some of the props were missing and of course everyone blamed the Phantom. I am sure he couldn't do that, he is at work, but they... well, they needed a scapegoat," Christine answered.

"Can we PLEASE talk about something else but Erik?" Raoul moaned. He just wished Erik was there, right now he felt he could strangle that masked bastard with his bare hands.

"Did you know Madame Giry still hopes her daughter might marry a nobleman?" Christine asked.  
"Really?"  
"Yes, and there is a young Baron courting her. I'm not sure what to make of it... Do you think a nobleman can marry a dancer?"  
Raoul gave it some thought. "It is not forbidden, now that France is a Republic. But it will cause some trouble and gossip and might damage his reputation. On the other hand... I learned that these things do happen and after some years they are forgotten. You see, my parents would never allow me to marry you, but they died long ago. My brother... well, he would have disowned me for sure, but I would simply have gone back to the marine and earned our livelihood as a a navy captain."

"You would have done this for me?" Christine asked deeply moved.

"That was the plan, but... things have changed, now that I am the Comte de Chagny. No one can tell me what to do and I alone decide whom I will marry," Raoul smirked, trying to avoid to say anything about Erik.

Christine changed the topic again: "Did you know that the managers now do not even believe Erik ever existed? Since he gave their money back and everything is like in every other opera house they think someone played a prank on them."

"Do you have anything to talk about that does not revolve around Erik? That man is dominating your life far too much!" Raoul complained, adding only in his thoughts: 'And mine too!'  
Christine wanted to reply that since he was her husband this was to be expected but she bit her tongue and asked instead about Raoul's business affairs.

"I am through reading the books, now I know that I am a very rich man. Well, I am still learning, running such a big business isn't easy. Did you know that my family even invested in a shipping company? My naval training comes in handy now. I really love the sea and I look forward to being able to see it again. Maybe I will buy myself a boat, nothing too big, just for sailing close to the coast. You know, one of these small boats that can be handled by one sailor alone. Would you like that?"

"You surely do not need my consent," Christine laughed, "But yes, I'd love it."  
"Tell me a name for my boat," Raoul asked.  
"A name? Well... I have no idea..."  
"Then I call it 'Christine's song' unless you have a better idea?"  
"I'd love that! Maybe I can see your boat some day?"

They spent the whole afternoon talking about Raoul's boat that only existed in his dreams now but would become reality sometimes in the future, conjuring up an image of them both on a boat on the ocean near the French coast on a beautiful summerday. It was so good to dream again.

Reality hit Christine as she came home. She wouldn't be able to take a trip with Raoul as long as Erik lived. She could not imagine Raoul and Erik getting along even for a few moments. She felt guilty for already making plans for the time when her husband would be dead. She didn't wish for his death, she knew she would miss him terribly then and she actually wanted him to stay alive, but she wished Erik and Raoul could find some way to get along, knowing this would be impossible after Erik had murdered Raoul's beloved brother.

Erik was sitting at the kitchen table, reading some papers and taking notes. He was wearing his glasses over his mask.

"Good evening," Christine greeted.  
"Good evening, my dear," he replied, "I hope you don't mind that I brought work home?"

"Not at all. I am constantly bringing work home," she answered, smiling.

"You said once that you would like to learn cooking. Today I feel like teaching you," he offered.

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	104. Chapter 104

**Madness and Hope**

At the End of May Erik found a man waiting for him before his tiny office in the morning when he came to work. That was unusual, at that time he was alone in the building. "Who are you and what do you want?" he asked harshly, angry that someone disturbed him before he had had his coffee in his office. He must be becoming a real official, he mused, when he came to his office he wanted a cup of coffee and the newspaper, then start to work. There was a proverb that when a true official came to work he would start immediately with having a lengthy breakfast and reading the newspaper.

"I'm Robert de la Morriere and I have a question to you," the other man replied.  
"And this has to be done at this time?" Erik grunted, he wanted to be rid of that man. "Very well, come in and ask your bloody question - but don't expect me to give you a good answer!"

The man laughed as if Erik had just made a joke. In the office Erik sat down behind his desk, staring angrily at the paperwork that covered the desk, the second chair and some of the files were on the floor. He didn't have enough space. And he surely didn't want to admit that most of the files were pure decoration - he had put newspapers in folders and placed them everywhere so when someone would enter his office it would look like he was overworked, which wasn't true. He had just found out that if he cleaned up and his desk was empty he would be given more work, if his desk was full with folders - no matter if they just held newspapers, no one would look at them carefully enough to notice - he was given less work.

"It is about a request for a demolition of a house."  
"Yes?"  
"The owner asks permission to tear it down."  
"And?"  
"I would be very happy if... this authority would delay a bit in answering that request," Morriere finally came out with his real question.

Erik shrugged. He had no idea if this was a file that would ever end up on his desk. "And?"  
"I heard that sometimes requests get lost in authorities. These things do happen, a paper in the wrong file or an overworked official simply doesn't have time..." Morriere went on.  
"I still do not see why you are telling me this?" Erik asked. He knew for sure that this man wanted him to make the file disappear but he disliked that this man had come straight to him. Did he have any reputation for being corrupt? Well, he knew that there were more than enough rumors about him having a criminal past - and they were not true. They accused him of crimes he had never committed but he knew that what he had really done was far worse than what any of these rumors suggested. Small wonder someone would think he was corrupt.  
Morriere smiled at him and answered lightly: "Every man has his dreams. Maybe you would prefer to have your own construction enterprise than just following orders of men who are much younger than you?"  
"To be quite clear: You want me to make the file disappear and reappear at a certain time. Why would I do this?" Erik was never one to play by any rules - he would certainly not play by the common rules of bribery and small favours. He knew exactly how this game was being played - both participants would never openly say what they wanted but would understand the veiled suggestions. He would have none of it.

"Who can't use 50.000,- Franc?" Morriere asked with a grin.  
Erik had to think about that. He would have to work more than a year and a half to earn that much. "Well, I have no idea what I could do with that," he replied, tempted to say yes.  
"Maybe the file will stay lost for more than six month, sometimes it takes that long to answer a request," Morriere went on, "And there is a slight chance that an official would win some money in a lottery. I heard the jackpot was 100.000,- Franc."

Erik felt his mouth go dry. 100.000,- Franc and he could buy the little backyard house next to the horse stable and never worry about paying the rent or getting evicted. And what would he have to do for it? Just misplace a certain file and no one would ever even know it had been him who did the misplacing. He was alone in the building right now, he could do whatever he wanted.

"Maybe I should buy a lottery ticket today," he answered and Morriere smiled and put an envelope on his desk before he left the office. Nothing else was being spoken. Erik felt horrible. He had just accepted bribe money, breaking one of his own rules that said that accepting bribe money was a weakness. He opened the envelope and found 20.000,- Franc - obviously the prepayment - and a small sheet of paper with a certain address. That must be the file and the house. He went to the secretariat and easily found the file - it was a new one, just the request, it hadn't even been given to any official, it didn't even have a file number yet. Perfect time to make it disappear without anyone ever knowing. He took the file with him, still wondering if he would really go through with this. He hated being just the minion for someone else without any clue what the main scheme was.

Only then the thought sank in that there must be something else. Why would anyone pay 20.000,- to have a house not torn down? Why offer one hundred thousand Franc just to delay demolition? O no, he had just made a mistake. Something was terribly wrong and he had been caught in a trap because of his greed. He couldn't just sit there in his office now so he took the file and the envelope, put it in his briefcase and went out. No one wondered because it was usual that the low ranking building inspectors would have to go to an inspection every so often.

He knew from the request that the house didn't belong to Morriere but to a man called Courand. He found the address and was surprised to find a nice little house in a very much neglected garden. It needed a cleanup badly, but no repairs. Why would anyone want to tear that house down? And why would someone else rather delay the demolition at a price one could buy that small parcel of land with the house? There was something very bad going on and now he was struck. He went to the house and opened the front door with a picklock so quickly, everyone on the street would assume he had the key. The house was full of dust, spider-webs and the stench of faeces from animals, mainly cats and pigeons. This house must have been abandoned for years. But it was nothing that required demolition, only a cleanup and some minor repairs.

Then he noticed something: Some of the floor boards had another sound when he tapped them with his walking cane than the others. Now that was interesting. Someone had something hidden there and it would certainly be brought to attention while tearing the house down. This Morriere literally had a skeleton in the closet - not his own closet, and that was obviously the problem here.

But what was he to do now? He certainly did not want to be involved in another one's murder case - he had more than enough of that himself. Maybe it wasn't even a murder case, there could be almost everything being hidden under these boards. Whatever it was, it was something too big to be simply disposed of. Something that would need more than a few weeks to be dug up and carried away.

* * *

That evening the Daroga noticed that Erik was sitting in his chair in the box staring at nothing and chewing his nails. Erik even forgot to applaud Christine after her aria as Desdemona. Erik lost in thoughts so deep he didn't even recognize Christine singing was alarming. He decided to test him. The tenor singing Othello had a good voice but his acting was horrible. If that man was Othello Desdemona's highest risk was to be bored to death.

"Othello is magnificent tonight," the Daroga stated, waiting for Erik's disagreement and a lecture why this man should never have gotten that role. Nothing of that was heard. "Erik? I asked you if you liked the tenor?" the Persian asked.  
"Hmmmm? Yes, yes..." Erik mumbled absently, he had not even heard his friend's question.  
"ERIK!" The Daroga grabbed his friend at the shoulder as if to shake him. That roused Erik from his thoughts.  
"What?" the masked man snapped irritated.

"You aren't concentrating on the opera, you aren't listening to me - what is it, Erik? Something is wrong, don't you deny it!"  
"I was just thinking. Daroga, do you know anything about a man called Robert de la Morriere?"  
"Morriere?" The Persian had to think. Yes, one of his mistresses had told him of a Robert de la Morriere. "Yes, I guess I shared one of my mistresses with him a few years ago. Why do you ask?"  
"Is he rich?"  
"Yes, he is. Came to Paris five years ago and started a business. He owns a wholesale trade - jewels, I think. No, that's not right! He doesn't own it, he's just the director, his uncle is the owner. Why do you ask?"  
"I just had a run-in with him. Nothing serious."  
"Erik, what is it that you are NOT telling me?"  
"Nothing! Forget it!" Erik snapped and disappeared through his secret passageway without waiting for the finale of the opera.  
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 _Erik is getting himself in trouble again..._

 _Thank you for reading! Please review. I'll try to update soon but I can't promise I can do it before Monday..._


	105. Chapter 105

**Madness and Hope**

Christine wondered why Erik was that absent when they walked home. He made some compliments about her performance but when she asked him what he thought of certain details he wasn't able to answer. When she said her opinion he merely grunted.

"Erik, something is wrong with you. What is it? Erik, what is it, please, tell me," she begged, fearing the worst.  
"Nothing. I'm just thinking about a difficult case, that's all."

He couldn't sleep well that night. He was thinking of a way out of this horrible mess he was in now. Maybe if he hadn't known he would just have taken the money and misplaced the file where it would be found for sure at the end of the year, but now that he knew that there was much more he wasn't sure how to go on. Christine wouldn't like this. Certainly not. And now he found that he disliked it too. But what could he do now? Just give the file back? This Robert would never dare to admit to attempting bribery so he couldn't very well ask his money back, could he? Should he go to the police and tell them of his suspicions? This would get him in trouble for sure while there was a very high chance now that nothing would happen if he just misplaced the file. But would he take that risk for only 20.000? Certainly not!

The next day he went to that Morriere. He was in his office and was more than surprised to see Erik there.

"I'm just here to get back the book I borrowed you," Erik stated.  
"A book? O... THAT. Yes, of course, please take a seat," Morriere answered.

"It seems you have literally a skeleton in the closet, don't you?" Erik asked. The way the other man just raised his eyebrows told him that he was right in his suspicions, although Erik wasn't sure it was really a body underneath that boards.

"You'll get what I promised, don't you worry," Morriere snapped.

"I bought two lottery tickets," Erik smirked, the other man understood all too well.

"Really? Are you sure two tickets can win?"

"If you have a deal with the devil, everything is possible," Erik said in his most threatening voice, which wasn't loud or thundering or angry, no, it was more like the dark, velvet purr of a black panther.

"It seems I asked the wrong person for help," Morriere replied, "What do you want, Davisseau? How much? And when will your greed be satisfied?"

Erik spread his hands as he answered: "You see, I have this dream of a small construction company... But one can't start a company with only one hundred thousand. But double the amount would do, I assume."

"And how do you think I should get that much?"

"How did you get the one hundred? I do not care. Maybe your uncle does, if it is not him who's resting there beneath the floor, but I couldn't care less. I have a damnable character flaw - I am so very nosy, I just have to know what you are trying to dispose of. But if I have another project to keep my mind occupied... I might forget about it. Now, choose: Either you agree or I'll see to it that that little house is torn down brick by brick this evening, and if I have to do it myself!"

Morriere's nod told him enough. That man was ready to pay, as long as whatever was hidden there was still there. The very moment it was gone he wouldn't pay one Centime. Erik would have to guard that house somehow. Could he ask the Daroga? No, certainly not. He would have to come up with something else. Morriere handed him a cheque with 80.000,-. Erik wasn't sure the bank would accept that cheque, but he took it nevertheless before he left Morriere.

On his way back to his office he could feel his conscience kick in. Well, not really his conscience, more or less just the fear of being caught red handed. Usually he would think of this as a tickling excitement and anxiousness. But now he didn't. What would become of Christine if he really got caught - the risk was very low, but there was a risk? He couldn't very well just run away with her, she would never agree to that. Erik scratched his chin. His chances of never being caught were quite high and the cheque proved that Morriere had nearly none experience in bribery - bribery is best done in cash.

But how could Erik possible get out of this mess now? Of course he could simply give that file back and wait what would happen. A paper missing for less than one day - this was not something anyone would even notice. He knew they often had the office boys searching for certain papers for weeks, some files were untraceable for month, mainly because someone placed them in another file by accident. Yes, give it back, cash the cheque, forget everything. But would that really be the end of the story? He knew himself too well, once he started to do something bad he would do it again at the next opportunity. Why had he allowed his greed to get the better of him? Why? Of course it was tempting to become a contractor again rather than being pushed around each and every day and deal with the contempt of far too many of his colleagues and superiors. But at what risk and what cost? He shook his head. A few years ago he would have laughed at such thoughts, pushed them aside as weakness, but now?

He chuckled as he realized he was standing before the Daroga's door when he came out of his dark thoughts. He decided to ask his friend for help and knocked.

The Daroga wasn't happy that Erik interrupted his lunch but he allowed him to come inside nevertheless. "Erik, what have you done now?" he gave a deep sigh.

Erik flinched. Of course, he had given himself away yesterday. "Erik has made a mistake," he confessed and the Daroga nearly choked on his food. Erik talking in the third person was a bad sign, he hadn't done this for nearly a year. "Erik has made a grave mistake," Erik went on, not facing his friend but staring at the clock.

"What did you do?" the Daroga asked and Erik blurted out the whole story without any more encouragement from the Persian policeman. He needed to unburden himself and he needed help. "What can I do now?" Erik whispered, "Tell me, what can I do? I want to set this right, but how?"  
"You know what an accomplice witness is?" the Daroga asked. Erik nodded. "Then go to the police and give them a full confession. You get away with a lenient sentence."  
"But... I will be punished and I will lose my job. How can I explain that to Christine? She... she will cry... she will hate me for this!" Erik whined.

The Daroga had to take a couple of deep breaths to calm himself or he would have hit Erik. This man had the nerve still pitying himself for having to face the consequences of his misdeeds. And this time Erik surely could not blame anyone for his crime.

"What do you think is easier? Telling her you are a key witness or waiting until the police comes to arrest you and not having any chance to explain anything?" he shot back angrily.  
"There is the chance that I won't get caught and it is very high..."  
"And what? That justifies every crime? Erik, I thought you had reformed yourself and so did your wife. I am deeply disappointed in you and I am sure your wife will be too," the Daroga scolded him, not allowing himself to mistake Erik's self-pity for real remorse. The masked bastard was just too cowardly to face the consequences of his misdeeds.  
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 _Thank you for the reviews! They encouraged me to update this weekend. Thank you very much!_


	106. Chapter 106

**Madness and Hope**

That night Erik had a horrible nightmare. In his dream he was facing a court trial. The Daroga acted as prosecutor and there were so many journalists asking Christine questions about him. He didn't understand anything, Christine was crying and he could do nothing for he was suddenly in a cage, his hands shackled behind his back, he couldn't even cry out. He woke soaked in sweat, shivering. He was in his room and he was grateful for that. Better than waking Christine in his nightmare.

He went to the kitchen to drink some water. No, he wouldn't do this. He couldn't go through with this, be it weakness or a suddenly awakened conscience or just that he was faint-hearted in his old age - he couldn't go on, he didn't have the nerve. Of course he could simply give back the file and try to pretend his conversation with Morriere had never happened, but he knew himself - this was only the first time he had given in to temptation but the next time he would repeat his crime again. He was like an alcoholic who couldn't stop drinking after the first glass of wine. He had to stop it now or he would get tangled in a web of lies and crimes again. No. Not again, never again. He couldn't do this to Christine. He got dressed, purposeful picking the light grey suit she had bought for him and the heavy boots he still preferred for they supported his ankles. Then he went to the kitchen to prepare a breakfast for his wife - maybe for the last time, he thought bitterly. Maybe he would be arrested and she would ask for divorce. He knew he faced a prison sentence and he knew perfectly well he would not survive that, but with all his scheming he always burdened himself with more guilt. He had to stop before it was too late - stop before he was too fare gone to even realize that he was doing bad.

He couldn't help crying when he put the plate down on her night table. "I am so sorry, my dear. Whatever happens now, please believe me one thing: I do love you," he whispered, then kissed her head.

Going to the office that morning - or rather that night, it wasn't even 4 a.m. - was hard. He had to force himself to go there, then waited. He didn't dare go away for he didn't trust himself to come back again.

The head of the authority was surprised to find Erik waiting for him in his office. "Davisseau, what's the matter?" he asked and noticed that Erik looked even worse than he usually did, the short man hadn't thought this was possible. Can a corpse look sick? Well, Erik could. "You look horrible!" he breathed, then, noticing his mistake: "No offense... Um... You look ill."

Erik couldn't even smirk. He just put the file and the envelope with the cheque and the money on the desk. His superior paled and sat down. "What have you done?" the short man asked, repeating the question of the Daroga.

"A grave mistake. Someone tried to bribe me to delay the answer to this request. It's the sum that made me suspicious and I... It was only two days ago... I... was tempted. But I want to set this right and..." Erik stuttered some more words but even he himself wasn't sure what he had tried to say. He cleared his throat and then managed to tell the whole story - of course without his blackmail attempt - and everything he knew so far, even his suspicions that there might be a literal skeleton in the closet.

"This is way over my head, you realize this?" the short man asked and Erik nodded. "We go to the magistrate right now! This isn't something to be taken lightly."  
"Yes, I thought so. But I wanted to talk to you first... I highly respect you and... please don't think ill of me," Erik begged. He knew he couldn't go back now, he would have to go through with this.  
"Not think ill of you? Are you mad? You committed the one crime that is worst for any official! Corruption!" the short man thundered.  
"I want to set this right, even if it costs my life!" Erik yelled back, not so much out of anger but of fear.

Together they went to the magistrate in charge who was a gaunt old man with a face like a hawk and ice blue eyes.

It wasn't easy to tell the story again, but Erik did, only with the slight alteration that he never had thought of really accepting the bribe money and do what that man asked him to do, he had only played along to find out what was going on so the police would believe him if he told them. The magistrate had heard far too many explanations like this to believe it. But he had seldom seen someone come to him to confess a crime when there was a very high chance that he would never be caught. This was something the magistrate really appreciated.

"You know what a key witness is?" he asked and Erik nodded. The Daroga had already explained this to him. "If you agree to help us, we can agree on a lenient sentence." The magistrate eyed the head of the building authority: "He'll face a severe disciplinary punishment, doesn't he?"  
"Of course. I can't tolerate his misbehaviour any longer," the short man answered, "He'll be dismissed in disgrace."

Erik shuddered. How would he ever be able to explain this to Christine? She would hate him for that.

"No," the magistrate interrupted, "I do not think this would be a good idea. Davisseau, who knows about this except the three of us?"  
"No one," Erik lied, not wanting to cause trouble for his friend.  
"Great. Right now we have - what? An attempted bribery. No big deal, not much evidence. No. I want to know everything and therefor this has to be a secret. Davisseau will go to work each day as usual, or we would warn this Morriere and whoever else is involved in this. The file will stay hidden - here with me and I have my men observing that house so we can catch this Morriere fellow while he's taking away whatever he has hidden there," the magistrate decided.

"What if he asks me for more favours?" Erik asked, worriedly. He disliked being in such a vulnerable position.  
"You have to avoid him."  
"Yes, sir." O how much he hated to sit there and have others make each and every decision. He just waited to be arrested but they didn't. "What will become of me?" he asked, he had to know.

The magistrate raised his eyebrows and answered: "I guess I believe you that you just delayed your complain to the police to inspect the building if there was any danger and came to me the very next day."  
Erik's jaw dropped. He couldn't believe his luck that he was getting away with a crime again. He would be a key witness, nothing more - and no trial, no punishment, no prison cell. "Thank you, sir," he mumbled, breathing a sigh of relief.

"You will not get away from ME," the head of the authority grumbled, "If I am not allowed to dismiss you, I'll give you a severe punishment. Money fine - one YEAR'S salary. And no complaints. Unless you want to quit?"  
"Do I have to answer this right away or do I get time for consideration?" Erik asked. He had no idea what to do, he couldn't decide this without asking his wife first. Right now it struck him that it wasn't her who was dependent on him but he who was utterly dependent on her.

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 _Erik IS acting completely out of character, because he feels he needs to go against all of his instincts now. He's suicidal and what he does is more or less a suicide attempt - his version of suicide by cop. He did never expect to be pardoned for he helped them in a criminal case they would otherwise never have known about._

 _And he does not lose the job - officials only lose their jobs if they are sentenced to a sentence of more than one years' imprisonment. Since he gets away as key witness, he can stay. So the head of the authority gives him a disciplinary punishment he knows for sure Erik can never pay - which would force him to quit._

 _Next chapter will be up tomorrow!_


	107. Chapter 107

**Madness and Hope**

Christine was very worried the day Erik had made his confession. Erik had left the house as usual before she woke up, but he hadn't been at the opera that evening, leaving it to Raoul to bring her home in his carriage. Raoul used that to make some snide comments about Erik probably being arrested finally, which did nothing to calm her. She had quite a difficult time to assure Raoul that he could leave her alone in her flat, she wouldn't need his protection.

Erik came home shortly after 1 a.m., he had needed much time to find the courage to go home and face Christine, only when he was too exhausted to keep walking the backstreets he had been able to force himself to go home. He walked slightly hunched over, his shoulders sacked, the head lowered and Christine immediately saw his mask was wet with tears.

"Erik, what happened?" she asked worriedly.

"You will hate me," he whispered. This was far worse than everything else that day but he had to tell her.

"Erik, what have you done?" she asked, terrified he might confess a murder.

"You are the third one to ask that question," he smirked humorlessly, "Please sit down. I tell you everything. Then you decide what I am to do."

He had to tell the whole story again, but this time he didn't make anything up or hold anything back. Christine sat there, staring at him as if he had struck her in the face. She couldn't believe what he had just told her. She had been so proud of him lately, he had done well and managed to be good - and now this.

"You disgraced yourself and you disgraced me, your wife. How could you, Erik? After all we've been through? How could you?" she cried, hit his breast with her fists and cried. There were no words for her disappointment.

"I am so sorry," he whispered again, "You want me to leave you alone tonight?"  
"Now you start running from me, you coward? No, Monsieur, I will have none of it. You stay here and hear me out!" she scolded him. He barely nodded. "How much do you need?"  
"28.800 Franc," he answered, "Or I have to quit."  
"You realize that I do actually have saved that much money - even more since I spend close to nothing except the maid's wage and the opera box?" she asked.  
"I didn't plan to beg for money," Erik answered honestly.  
"And how did you plan to pay that penalty?"  
"I didn't plan anything," he confessed, ashamed of himself.  
"That's obvious," she snorted in contempt, "Why? Why did you do this? Another crime after such a long time? Can't you live one year without a committing a crime?"

It wasn't even one year but he wouldn't point that out to her. And one year wasn't long. He despised himself at that moment, he kept his head lowered and stared at the floor.

"I tried to put this right," he answered, trying to defend himself somehow.

"Yes, you tried. But do you understand how this is going to affect me? I can only choose between paying the price for your crime or watching you losing your job and having you sitting at home all day sulking and drowning in self-pity and most likely cognac. Is that what it will be like in the future, Erik? Me paying the price for your misdeeds?"

"God, no! I'd rather rob a bank!" He clasped his hand over his mouth but he couldn't take back the words that had just slipped.

Christine was more than angry now. Her fury matched his when he was half-mad with anger. He had never seen her like this before, her eyes blazing with a fury he knew all too well, her hands suddenly came up to hit him. He was glad she didn't know how to really hurt him and she lacked the strength to strangle him for when she grabbed his tie and slapped him he was sure she would have killed him if she only had the knowledge how to do that. Still she managed to cause his lips to bleed and the pressure on his throat made it very difficult to breathe.

"Can't breathe..." he choked, but did nothing to defend himself. She immediately let go of him. He gasped for air and coughed. "I am so sorry," he whispered, "I promise, I pay it back, if you lend me the money."

"How? You haven't even begun to pay what I gave you last time," she retorted, still angry.

Erik shrugged helplessly. "I do what I can," he promised, knowing she was right. He wouldn't be able to pay that back unless he would cut down their standard of living - but that would make her pay again. It was hopeless. "The only valuable things I have left are the harp, the violin and the piano," he said miserably, "I could sell them. The harp... the harp alone is worth more than 30.000 Franc."  
"So much?" she had no idea what instruments of such a rare quality would bring in an auction.  
"Maybe more. Yes, I'll sell the harp, then... well..." he gulped. He didn't like the thought of selling one of his instruments. They were part of himself, these instruments were the only company he had had in the cellars of the opera house and he loved them as one would love his family. The mere thought of giving one of them away hurt so much. But he could not find any other way right now, for he hadn't been given much time.

"I buy it then," Christine said, not wanting never to hear him play the harp again, "Then I get something in return for my money. And you can always ask me to borrow it if you want to. But I want a written contract that the harp is mine. I guess I made a pretty good bargain." Erik stared at her. He could not understand why she helped him now, how was she able to help him after all he had done? How could she be so forgiving? He felt like the worst scum of the earth.

It was already dawning when both of them finally were exhausted enough to sleep despite the emotional turmoil they were in.

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 _I won't be able to update tomorrow, but I hope I can do it the day after tomorrow. Thanks for your patience!_


	108. Chapter 108

**Madness and Hope**

A week later Erik was told to come to the head of the authority. He knew what this was about and he knew perfectly well everyone knew he had done something - which was kept a secret - and had gotten severe disciplinary punishment. They knew that his wife had paid this and they wondered why she would do this. Why would a young and beautiful woman marry such an ugly, repulsive man and then even redeem him when he couldn't pay the monetary penalty? There was a rumor that either he blackmailed her somehow - which was far too close to the truth for Erik to be comfortable with - or that she was the mistress of the Comte de Chagny who paid a man who was clearly incapable to consummate his marriage to act as her husband to safe his own reputation. That would make him something like a whoremaster and her... he hated that rumor most but there was nothing he could do. Rumors were diabolical - there was no one responsible and no way to defend oneself.

When he came round the corner he heard someone telling one of their current jokes about him. It was something about him not being able to go to the museum for he would be mistaken for a mummy and placed in the storeroom. Very funny. This was an old one. Couldn't they just come up with something else? He bit his lip and kept silent, well aware of their stares as they held their breath until he past them, then they burst out in laughter. It hurt him more than he cared to admit to himself.

He hadn't even reached the door of the head of the authority when the fat man grabbed his arm and pulled him into the room, pushing him into one chair. He kept silent.

"I should degrade you," the short man huffed, "But you already have the lowest rank. I can't very well make you an office boy, now can I?"  
Erik kept silent and stared at the table. He knew that his boss actually could make him an office boy, or a cleaner, if he wanted to.  
"Your wife paid the penalty."  
Erik nodded, still not daring to look up.  
"What I still do not understand about the whole affair is why on earth you came to me and confessed everything? You could have placed that paper on someones desk and no one would ever have known."  
Erik's head jerked up and he looked the other man straight in the eyes. "I would have known," he said honestly, "And despite the horrible reputation I have I owed it to myself to set this right. I am not the man I was before and I do not want to go back."  
"You know that you are getting away with an unduly lenient sentence? You still have your job, you don't go to prison, your wife paid the penalty - you have the luck of the devil!"  
Erik smirked. Yes, the luck of the devil. He didn't deserve it and right now he didn't even want it - why did always the person he cared for most in his life have to pay for his sins? There was no justice in this twisted world.

"No witty reply?" the short man asked and Erik wasn't sure if this was a mockery of if he should answer something.  
"Sir, all I can say is that I am very sorry," Erik answered, "I do not want to be a criminal. I will not allow myself to be corruptible. You know that if I hadn't had a change of heart no one would ever have known of my misdeed. No one. But I did not even want to get away with this for if I give in to temptation once I will do it again." He took a deep breath, trying to put up his mental shields again and close whatever gap he had opened to bare his heart. "And that is more than I ever told anyone in my life."  
"You talk like a recovering drug addict," the short man observed and raised one eyebrow.

"Maybe," Erik replied, not wanting to discuss this any further.

There was a very long and awkward silence between them. Then the short man asked, studying Erik's face carefully: "Do you know what was in that house?"  
"No. I thought about digging it up and hiding it for further use... but no. I don't even want to know it."  
"Further use? You considered blackmail? You had a certain reputation for playing very rough if contract negotiations were struck."

Erik nodded. Blackmail had become his second nature and he didn't even know when this had happened. Maybe it was his need to threaten everyone to get things done. No one would comply because of his good looks and his charms. Ask nicely and you get it - that had never worked for him. Obscure threats - that was what worked for him.

They looked at each other and suddenly Erik saw the other man's expression softening.  
"I have to admit that I admire your courage," the short man said and Erik stared at him bewildered. "Not many men would find it in themselves to admit to a crime when they have the best chances to get away with it."  
Erik couldn't help answering: "I have much experience in that."  
The other man burst into laughter and even Erik couldn't help smiling. "You and your sick jokes!" the short man exclaimed, "I don't know how you do this but you can make everyone laugh even in the most grave situation."

Another long and awkward silence followed. Erik didn't dare to speak up. He still didn't know how to go on now that he had proven himself untrustworthy. He had to make amends somehow and had no idea how to do this. Finally he cleared his throat and asked in a childlike voice he usually never allowed himself to use in front of a stranger: "If there is anything I can do to make amends, please, let me know. I'd do anything."

"Anything or anything that wouldn't be another crime?"  
"You really hate me now, don't you?" Erik groaned.

"No. I am merely disappointed that you are that corruptible. But I have to admire your courage to confess. I guess your wife will be the one to mete out punishment to you."

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 _Guest: Of course this story will come to an end! I do not intend to write on it for the rest of my life. ;-)_


	109. Chapter 109

**Madness and Hope**

Christine had kept quiet around Erik, allowing him to overcome his troubles in his job first. She wasn't sure herself if she did so to spare him or just because she had no idea what to do with him now. She noticed that he was unusually quiet and he didn't eat much. He didn't allow himself any of the food she knew he liked, he didn't allow himself anything but vegetables and water. No wine, no cognac, not even tea or coffee. She wasn't sure if he had stomachache or was punishing himself in some odd way. He didn't approach her, on the contrary, he tried to avoid her. It was like living with a ghost, he was there but he tried not to be seen or heard except when he was serving her like a faithful slave.

"Back to groveling, are we?" she snapped at him, irritated by his behaviour and all the unpleasant memories it suddenly brought back.  
Erik glanced up from where he knelt. That was something she didn't understand - he really behaved like a slave around her. When there was nothing he had to do - like cooking or cleaning something up or whatever - he would kneel down and pretend to be a piece of furniture until she asked something of him.

"I'm sorry. You want me to leave you alone?" he asked miserably.  
"No, I want to know what possessed you to relapse to your utterly despicable criminal habits?" she asked.  
He shrugged. There was no acceptable explanation to that. He couldn't very well say 'opportunity makes thieves' or something like that.  
"Don't pretend you didn't hear me, Monsieur Erik, I know that your hearing is excellent!" she hissed, annoyed by his silence, "And don't just say that you are sorry!"

He knew this was serious. When she started calling him 'Monsieur Erik' she was very upset and he better take care of every single breath he took now. "I gave in to temptation because I am bad," he said, suddenly sounding like a child, "And then I thought of something even worse, because that is what I have done all my life. That is what I was before you saved me. I would have gotten away with it, you know. There was only a very small risk that anyone would ever find out or report me to the police, especially once I sized that thing... whatever it was... that was hidden there. I gave myself up because that is who I am now."

"And who are you now?" she asked, she wouldn't fall for his silky voice and his art of speaking. She expected an elaborate speech from him now, something explaining that he was just poor and misunderstood and he had really reformed and how much he regretted his actions. One of his 'I did something bad but I am still a good guy at heart' rants. She had heard enough of them. His main excuse was 'if I wasn't that ugly, I would be loved and I would not have...' - well, this was no longer an excuse for he knew perfectly well that she actually did love him, her love was not so strong as he had hoped for, but she actually did love him.

His answer was a complete surprise, for it was only one word and it came directly from his very soul: "Yours."

Christine berated herself for falling for his pleading again, but she couldn't help the emotions this one word suddenly stirred in her. She felt the urge to comfort him - undeserving of any comfort as he was.

"I am grievously disappointed in you," she said as harshly as she could manage, but he didn't miss the gentleness that oddly contradicted her harsh words.  
"I know. And I am so sorry that I forgot my place - that I said once that I felt I was giving more than I would receive in our marriage. The opposite is true. I only take and never give. You do not depend on me, you don't need me as a legal guardian, I need you." Both of them knew this wasn't possible. A woman needed a legal guardian and could never be a man's legal guardian. But in their strange relationship it somehow sounded true.

* * *

Christine was so confused, she went to the Daroga for help. He knew Erik better than anyone else. The Persian had expected a visit from Erik but not from Christine. Why did she come to him for help now? Politely he invited her in and asked her what he could do for her.

Christine told him what she knew of the story.  
The Daroga stared at her. "He really gave himself up when there was no risk being found out?" he asked astonished.  
"Yes, and he seems to get away with it," Christine replied bitterly, "They want a major case and not some small corruption scandal. And, stupid woman that I am, I gave him the money to pay the penalty."

"He really gave himself up," the Persian repeated, shaking his head, still unable to believe it, "He was winning and he gave himself up."

They stared at the coffee table for a while. Then the Daroga said with a gentle smile: "I guess he won't do that again. He changed, I don't know how you did this, but you changed him. He's not the monster he was once, he's just a man now. The time with you - it really changed him. I would never have thought this possible, but you do him a world of good."

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	110. Chapter 110

**Madness and Hope**

It was not easy for Christine and Erik to live together after he had disappointed her in such a horrible way. He tried to win her trust again but that was difficult - of course she did not ask for divorce but she didn't trust him now and he was still ashamed of what he had done. Trust was something easily destroyed and very hard to repair.

One beautiful sunny Sunday they went for a walk after lunch. It was more or less a normal walk on a Sunday afternoon and they enjoyed it. But then Erik suddenly stopped walking and leaned against a wall.  
"What is it?" Christine asked worriedly.  
"I'm not well," Erik whispered, pressing one hand to his stomach, struggling to control his breathing, "We better go home." He felt sick and couldn't even tell why he suddenly felt sick.

It wasn't easy to walk suddenly as he felt that his food did not agree with him and he could be sick any time now. That was something anyone else might not have given a second thought but being sick on the street was something Erik feared - he would have to take off his silk mask or at least roll it up over his mouth and nose. He could only hope the content of his stomach would stay down at least until they reached home. Walking under these circumstances wasn't easy. One too deep breath and he would lose control.

Christine came closer, watching Erik walking hunched over, struggling for control. They were in an open street and because of the beautiful weather there were many other people in the street as well. She glanced around if she could find a quite sidestreet, a backyard, anything where Erik could hide until he was better. But there was nothing like that, in the sidestreets were even more people and in every backyard they could see were children playing.

"Stay away from me," Erik whispered. He didn't want her to see him being sick, which was only a matter of time now. All he could do was to turn to face a wall as he had to take off his mask and bend down as he was violently sick. He couldn't help himself. When he was done he noticed to his horror that not only Christine but other people as well were staring at him in disgust. He reached for his handkerchief and covered his mouth and nose with it as if his nose was bleeding and he didn't want the blood to stain his clothes.

"Are you okay?" Christine asked.  
"No. It gets worse, let's hope I make it home."  
"I'll fetch a cab," Christine offered.  
"NO! A cab would even make it worse!" Erik refused, straightening his spine as much as his stomach allowed it now and started to walk again.

He tried to ignore the commends that were made behind his back. Most of them were discussing that he obviously suffered a terrible disease and should not be allowed to come near other people. He tried to walk faster but when he tried he felt his stomach turn once more. He couldn't stop it and had to reveal his face again. This did nothing to calm those people, on the contrary, they were even more convinced that he had a terrible disease and must be driven off. One woman started yelling at him to stay away from her children - he hadn't even seen them - and Erik knew he had to get away soon. They weren't in nice quarters now that they had tried to take a shortcut.

A stone hit his shoulder. Erik turned round and saw some boys laughing at him, calling him scarecrow, mummy and corpse and pointing out the nearest graveyard suggesting he buried himself there. Another stone missed him. He took a shuddering breath and forced himself to take another step. He needed to go home, he needed to lie down and rest.

Christine kept her distance from Erik, feeling guilty abandoning him when he needed help but it was too disgusting to watch him and she felt slightly sick herself. So she watched from distance as children started throwing stones at him. Their parents were close by but they did nothing to stop them, on the contrary, they watched them and laughed. She wanted to yell at them but didn't dare. One of the boys ran up to Erik and tried to touch him - Erik reacted faster than she could see, he slapped the boy so hard the child fell to the ground.

Then everything escalated. A woman interfered, screaming "Monster! How dare you hurt my boy?" and Erik hit her in the face with his fist, something Christine had never thought he would do. Erik just tried to flee but he lacked the strength to run, he could only walk slowly, still covering his face with the handkerchief in his left hand. Now the woman cried for help, claiming he had just attacked her. Christine hurried towards Erik, took his arm and he looked at her. He stood hunched over, his right hand on his knee, his left hand still pressed against his mouth.

When he noticed Christine was at his side, he looked up at her, his eyes wide with panic as his breathing quickened. "Run and don't look back," Erik whispered, "RUN!" Christine fled. She ran as fast as she could, hearing angry voices behind her. When she reached the next crossroads she stopped and looked back. Erik was with his back against a wall, several men standing threatening before him, shouting. Erik stood there, his face bared, he had lost his hat, and said nothing. He didn't cry for help, didn't scream. Christine realized horrified that they were too many and Erik was too sick to defend himself. They could kill him.

She had to get help. She ran across the street, then yelled on the top of her lungs - and her well trained voice echoed in the street: "HELP! They are killing him! HELP! Call the POLICE!"

Then she ran, still screaming for help. It didn't take long and a few men stopped and asked what had frightened her so. "They are killing him! They are killing my husband! Help me!" she sobbed and then suddenly five policemen where at her side and a few other men who were willing to help her - or at least curious what happened.

"Help me! They are killing my husband!" Christine sobbed, pointing in the direction where she had last seen Erik. The policemen hurried off and Christine stumbled after them, she had to know what was going on.

When the five policemen reached the scene they found three men sitting on the ground, a group of about seventeen people - maybe more, maybe less - were gathered around Erik, who was lying on sidewalk by the wall, curled up in a fetal position, trying to shield his head with his arms. The policemen went between those people and Erik, who stayed on the ground, covering his head. Most of the men who had been attacking him now suddenly disappeared, pretending to be nothing but bystanders. The policemen started discussing with the three most aggressive of the attackers.

Erik was still on the ground as Christine knelt down beside him. "Are you hurt?" she asked, but got no answer, he was trembling uncontrollably, silently crying. She gently touched his arm and he shifted a bit, trying to push himself up. He was lying in a pool of sick, his nose bleeding profusely. He had been lying on his right side and his face was badly bruised, his left eye already swelling, the left cheekbone swelling and there was a nasty cut on his cheek and his lower lip was bleeding.

"This monster attacked first my poor innocent boy and then my sister as she tried to save him!" one of the men exclaimed furiously, "Arrest him!"  
The policeman looked at Erik, who still wasn't able to get up, his face down, blood dripping from the small stump that was all he had of a nose. It looked like his nose had just been cut off.

"That's not true!" Christine exclaimed furiously, stood up and faced the man. "That is a lie!" She turned to the policeman. "Monsieur, my husband didn't attack anyone, it was them who attacked him without any provocation on his part!"

"And you are?" the policeman asked, taking out his notebook. Other policemen arrived and told the bystanders to go away, so now there were only four injured men, one of them Erik, and the three most aggressive of the attackers. Suddenly there were more than twelve policemen and Christine had no idea where they had come from.

"My name is Christine Daae, um, no, that's my artist's name, Christine Davisseau and he's my husband Erik."  
"What is your current occupation?" the policeman asked, still taking notes.  
"I'm the leading soprano at the opera."  
The policeman's head came up. "THE Christine Daae?" he asked. Obviously he had read the newspapers, for she doubted he was fond of operas.

The other policemen, who were talking to the other men - except Erik, who had pushed himself up on hands and knees and held his head low to allow the blood from his nose to run down so he wouldn't swallow it - suddenly looked at her. Erik had been ignored by the police more or less, everyone hoping someone else would take over the disgusting duty of helping him.

Christine took a deep breath and went on in a voice that made sure everyone, even the bystanders, could hear her: "My husband is Erique Davisseau, he is a building inspector. Do you really think a BUILDING INSPECTOR would ever stoop so low as to attack a guttersnipe?"

This suddenly changed the situation completely. The policemen looked at Erik, who's dark blue suit was stained but clearly the clothing of an upper class gentleman. Christine wore a light green silk dress and a beautiful necklace. The other men wore filthy and somewhat ragged brown workmen's clothes and on their breath one could smell cheap wine.

"You are a building inspector? An official?" the policeman asked. This changed everything, making Erik suddenly a respectable man, someone who would never be under the suspicion of attacking someone in the street. The other men were mostly lowly workers or unemployed, this made them quite suspicious in the eyes of the policemen.  
Erik nodded and managed to say yes. He still fought to breathe, his body hurt and his head was spinning.  
Only now did the policeman ask him directly if he needed help.  
"Doctor Raynard. I need Doctor Raynard," Erik answered. Christine knew that Dr. Raynard was the physician Erik had called to help her when she had lost the child. Somehow Erik seemed to trust that doctor now.  
"Can you walk?" Christine asked worriedly and Erik shook his head, which turned out to be a mistake, suddenly everything went black and when he could see anything again he was lying on the ground. He felt Christine's hand on his shoulder, holding onto him as if he could support her now.

"Can you fetch a cab?" Christine asked and gave the policeman a pleading look, "He really needs a doctor."

She concentrated on Erik, who was again pushing himself to his knees, she held his arm to keep him upright. She didn't know how long they had knelt there on the filthy sidewalk, Erik still bleeding and trembling, Christine silently crying and holding onto his arm.

"Monsieur, can you get into that cab?" a policeman asked and Christine looked up. The policeman had called a cab and offered to accompany them to the doctor's. Erik wanted to say no, he didn't want anyone, but Christine thanked the policeman for his offer and accepted it before he could say anything. Christine handed Erik a handkerchief which he pressed to his bleeding stump of a nose. He had lost his hat and his mask and wasn't sure if someone had stolen money as well. He was in no condition to check that now, all his instincts urged him to flee but his body refused.

"I'm afraid I suffered a concussion," he said, his voice cold and detached as if he was talking about someone else. The driver and the policeman helped him and Christine into the cab, the driver complained this would get his cab dirty and he would have to clean it up. Christine snapped at the driver to shut up, she would see to it that he would be paid for his trouble of saving a man's life. Erik didn't say anything, he allowed himself to slump into a seat, his vision blurring again.

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 _This is exactly what Erik is afraid of every time he dares to walk the streets at daytime._

 _Next chapter will be up tomorrow._


	111. Chapter 111

**Madness and Hope**

Dr. Raynard wasn't happy to be disturbed at a Sunday afternoon. But when he saw Erik, who could barely walk and needed the help of the cab driver to move the few steps to the treatment room, and Christine explained that he had been beaten, he couldn't refuse helping him. Erik was conscious, but thinking wasn't easy right now and he just wanted to lie down. He couldn't even begin to count his bruises but he was sure it was mostly bruises. The only real injuries were the concussion and he assumed the nasal bone - he had no nose but he had a nasal bone - was broken. Well, it had been broken before and surely his looks were the last thing to worry about.

Dr. Raynard showed Christine out of his treatment room and helped Erik to lie down on a narrow cot. "Eyes open!" Dr. Raynard barked, "Don't drift off!" Erik struggled to keep his eyes open. He would have loved to pass out now. "How many fingers do you see?" Dr. Raynard asked. Erik stared at the hand that was held in front of his face. "All of them," he answered and Dr. Raynard laughed: "Okay, if you are coherent enough to make a joke, your head isn't that badly hurt."

"I need to clean myself up," Erik mumbled, slowly recovering. The shock was wearing off and the pain kicked in.  
"Of course," Dr. Raynard pointed to the sink in the corner of his treatment room and the towels there. Then he opened the door to the waiting room and asked Christine if she could go home and bring clothes for her husband.

Erik noticed the mirror just above the sink and flinched as he saw his face. His left eye was swollen shut, his left cheek was swollen and a cut marked his cheekbone, his nasal bone was broken. He placed both hands on his face, taking the small nose stump with his fingers and pushed it back into place with a crack. A gush of blood shot from his nose and splashed on the sink and the mirror and his already stained suit.

"What are you doing?" Dr. Raynard asked alarmed.  
"Just putting my bones together," Erik answered, turned on the water to wash his hands and his face. Then he took off his jacket. Beneath the jacket was his vest, the vest held his five throwing knifes and the lasso.  
"You were armed?" the doctor asked confused, "Did you defend yourself?"  
Erik smiled bitterly. "And give them even more weapons? No. Never use a weapon if it will be taken from you. They were... too many and I was already sick. They would have overpowered me and then they would even have weapons. No. I only used fists and feet..." He stared at his bruised and bloodied knuckles. He wasn't sure if he had hurt anyone of them, he hoped so.

Dr. Raynard helped him clean himself up and cleaned his wounds. Erik had suffered mainly bruises, nothing too serious.  
"They weren't out for blood," Erik said, "They just wanted to have fun at my expense."

"Let me look at your nose," Dr. Raynard demanded.  
"If you can find it, certainly," Erik answered, mocking himself. His black humor kicked in when he tried to save at least a bit of dignity in a humiliating situation like this.  
Dr. Raynard didn't answer, just went on with his examination. "At least you will be able to breathe freely once the swelling eases."

"At least I don't have to worry it might spoil my looks," Erik mumbled, then bent over the sink and brought up the blood he had swallowed.

When Christine returned with a basked with another suit for Erik she found him lying on the narrow cot, covered with a blanket.

"How is he?" she asked worriedly.  
"He'll heal. It's the concussion that worries me," the doctor explained, "What happened to him?" He took Christine to the waitingroom and handed her a glass of water. Christine suddenly broke down sobbing, telling him as much as she could remember, allowing the doctor to comfort her.

"Well, in the future you have to be more careful with his food," Dr. Raynard advised.  
"I had the same for lunch and I wasn't sick," Christine replied confused.  
"Yes, because you are young and healthy. He is neither."  
"WHAT?" Christine asked dumbfounded. She had known that Erik was old but was he sick?  
"He didn't tell you?" Dr. Raynard asked, "Well, then you better ask him when he's better. I am a doctor I'm not allowed to tell you. But make sure he only gets an easily digestible diet. I already told him but he's so used to neglecting himself, I should have known he wouldn't listen."

Christine stared at the doctor. Erik hadn't told her anything that he had been seeing the doctor, well he had, but only concerning his far-sightedness and his glasses. She could remember him eating nothing but vegetables for weeks - maybe something was wrong with his stomach? She remembered her father had problems with certain foods when he was old. And Erik's life-long irregular eating habits were likely to cause problems such as these.

"The worst is his concussion. He mustn't be alone tonight. I would like him to stay here with me so I can observe if he gets any worse. Can you help me persuading him to stay?" Dr. Raynard asked, confusing her even more. If Raynard knew about Erik's stubbornness and often irrational behaviour Erik must have seen him more than just once.

They went back to the treatment room together, Erik was still lying on the cot, his eyes closed as if he was sleeping.  
"Erik?" Christine asked softly.  
His right eye opened, the left couldn't. "I'm so sorry you had to see this," Erik whispered.  
"My poor Erik! It was horrible, I was so afraid they might kill you!" Christine cried.  
"I've suffered worse," Erik answered and raised one hand to touch her cheek. She grabbed his hand and kissed it.

"Erik, Dr. Raynard wants you to stay here for tonight. He says you have a severe concussion and he needs to look after you," Christine said, trying to sound not to worried.  
"Okay," Erik agreed much to the surprise of the doctor and Christine. They had counted on him trying to run immediately. He wouldn't - his head hurt and he felt dizzy and sick, lying down had been too good and he needed to rest too badly to even think of getting up.

"I'll come tomorrow with a cab to take you home," Christine promised.  
"I love you," Erik replied and closed his eyes.

The doctor told Christine that Erik needed to rest now and she should better go home. He would take care of her husband. "Tell me the truth - will he survive?" Christine asked, suddenly panicked he might die.  
"I'm sure he'll be alive when you come to bring him home tomorrow," the doctor promised, "But he will need to stay at home and rest at least two weeks."

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 _Erik is not that badly hurt - a broken nasal bone, a concussion, cuts and bruises, but he's tough._

 _I hope I can update tomorrow, but I am not sure, maybe it will be the day after tomorrow. Sorry for that._


	112. Chapter 112

**Madness and Hope**

Christine didn't dare to go home alone, she got herself a cab. After what she had seen that day she wasn't sure she would ever be able to walk around in Paris without being scared. She hadn't thought it was possible that someone would be attacked in broad daylight on a Sunday afternoon. She had always thought Erik was just paranoid and secretly found his paranoia quite amusing - the dreaded Phantom of the Opera panicked when faced with a simple task like going for a walk. Now she understood why he had been afraid.

She locked herself in their house and suddenly found it frightening. She closed the shutters and lit the gaslight. Now she would have felt far more comfortable if Erik was at home. She fired the wood-burning stove to make some tea.

Then she sat down in the livingroom, staring at the piano, drinking tea and tried to understand what had happened. It had started with a nice walk on a sunny Sunday. Erik had been sick. That in itself was disgusting, yes, but no reason for anyone to hurt him. He hadn't been aggressive, no wait, it was the child - the children had started throwing stones. When one of them had tried to touch Erik - a childish 'who-dares-what' game - and he had reacted violently, he had slapped the boy. Christine shuddered. When she had been talking to the police she had absolutely forgotten that he had done this. And he had hit the woman who came to that boy's rescue - and then hell broke loose.

She sipped at her teacup. Erik shouldn't have hit the boy and the woman, but the children shouldn't have been allowed to throw stones at him. She wasn't sure if this wasn't at least partially Erik's fault. But then - he had been sick and she wasn't sure if he had realized that it was a child and a woman he had raised his hand against.

She went to bed early but she didn't sleep well, the horrible picture of Erik lying on the ground, so many men around him, hitting and kicking him, still haunted her. She didn't understand how this could have happened, sometimes she thought everything was just a bad dream and she would wake any moment now and tell Erik about her nightmare and maybe they would laugh it off. But it wasn't just a nightmare. Erik wasn't at home when she woke in the morning and suddenly she found she missed him. She had never thought it was possible to miss Erik that much but she did. She found that right now she didn't even want to think what life without him would ever be like.

Christine got up, made some breakfast for herself, then got a cab and gave the driver the address of Dr. Raynard. She could only hope Erik was still alive but she assured herself that since a doctor had been taking care of him that night he couldn't have had better chances.

Dr. Raynard opened the door. The doctor looked exhausted, but he was smiling.  
"Where is Erik?" Christine asked.  
"In the waitingroom, asking if you are already there for the ten thousandth time," the doctor answered.

Christine rushed past the doctor. Erik got up when he saw her. He wasn't wearing a mask, he wore the dark grey suit she had brought the day before. She had obviously forgotten about a mask and a hat, but when she saw his swollen face she was sure he wouldn't be able to wear any of his masks now, not even the soft silk masks. "My darling Christine," Erik whispered and spread his arms as if to embrace her. His left eye opened just a small slit, but the right eye glittered with joy. The right corner of his mouth twisted upward as Erik attempted to smile, baring his discolored teeth. She gulped, trying not to let her disgust at his sight show.

Erik noticed her discomfort and turned away in shame. She went to him and embraced him gently, taking care not to hurt him for she knew he was injured and badly bruised. "O Erik, poor, poor Erik," she whispered. He gently returned the embrace, a bit awkward showing emotions in front of the doctor. Erik gently pushed her away.  
"We better go home, the good doctor has done more than enough for me," Erik said.

"You'll get my bill," Dr. Raynard answered with a weary grin, "And take care of enough rest. You have a horrible concussion."  
"No, I haven't. That was just my upset stomach," Erik retorted, "I'm a bullhead."  
"Concussion," the doctor insisted.  
"Stomach," Erik refused to back down.

"Madame, I leave him to your care. It is absolutely necessary that he stays in bed for at least one week," the doctor advised.  
"I would know a way to keep me in bed," Erik whispered in Christine's ear so no one but her could hear him. She blushed and asked herself if he was really that badly hurt. But then - Erik acted as if he was drunk and she was sure the doctor hadn't allowed him to drink alcohol. Maybe it was really a very bad concussion that caused him to behave badly. Or he was just enjoying himself. She decided not to push on but take him home.

"Wait - you forgot your clothes!" Dr. Raynard called after them.  
"Burn them!" Erik snapped.  
"Burn them? But they could be cleaned..." Christine asked.  
"Burn them! I can never put them on again!" Erik commanded, then added softly: "You wouldn't understand, my dear, but I CAN'T wear clothes I have worn when I was in a degrading situation like that. I simply can't even look at them."

The ride home in the cab wasn't pleasant. Erik had been hiding his face with a handkerchief as best as he could when he got into the cab and then closed the window. He didn't want to be seen. Christine noticed that he was shivering despite the heat of the summer day.

When they reached their home Erik told her he needed a hot bath. He asked her to fetch firewood from their little shack behind the house, he didn't dare go out now without a mask. Christine went there and came back with a basked with wood, then she fired the boiler.

"Can you do it alone?" she asked worriedly.  
"I have to," Erik answered as a matter of fact. He would never ask her to help him take a bath. Never.

When Erik was in the bathroom the maid arrived and was surprised to find Madame at home. Christine told her that Erik had been injured and was at home as well, telling the maid to stay away from the bathroom. She couldn't risk the maid walking in on Erik sitting naked in the bathtub.

Erik took his time taking a bath. He needed to clean himself, but no matter how much soap he used - he knew that slimy, dirty feeling on his skin would stick to him for weeks, he couldn't wash the shame and the degradation off.

When he got out of the bathtub he noticed that he had forgotten to bring clean clothes to the bathroom. He couldn't very well go to his room with nothing but a towel around his hips when Christine was at home. So he called out to her and asked her to bring him something to put on. Christine went to his room, took his nightshirt and his dressing gown and knocked at the bathroom door. He opened it a bit so she could hand him the clothes without seeing him. He rolled his eyes - nightshirt and dressing gown. He would have preferred a suit but he wouldn't complain. He was exhausted and needed to go to bed anyway.

"Erik, wait, the maid is here!" Christine cried out as he opened the door. He slammed it shut immediately. Damn. He had forgotten they had a maid.  
"I can't put on a mask," he answered, "Send her away!"

Christine turned to the elderly maid. "You know that my husband has a severe deformity?" she said, forcing herself to breathe calmly. The maid nodded. "He had been injured yesterday and can't wear his mask. So please do not scream and do not show any fear or disgust. If you can't do that, you are free to take this day off."  
The maid considered this for a few minutes, then she said she'd rather stay.

"Erik, she can stand it," Christine called.  
"But I can't. Send her away!" Erik answered. This wasn't good. He felt absolutely helpless, not being able to leave the bathroom because there was a maid in the house and he didn't wear a mask.  
"Erik, she has to see you one day - better you come out when she is expecting you. You can't hide in your own house from your own maid!"  
"She's leaving anyway when she sees me," Erik retorted. This was humiliating but he couldn't help it.

"Monsieur," the maid said, "Madame told me about your face. She told me before she hired me."  
Erik groaned. Not this again! No! He wasn't sure if he could stand another woman fainting when she saw him. Now she thought she could stand it - but being told about a defacement and actually seeing it were too different. He himself felt lightheaded again, he needed to go to bed, the doctor had been clear... "Just send her away!" he moaned. Why couldn't Christine just do what he said when he was already sick?

"Monsieur, really, I don't mind it," the maid answered.  
"At your own risk," Erik retorted, "If you so much as flinch you are dismissed without notice." Then he opened the door, bracing himself for the terrified scream that didn't come. The old woman stared at him, her breathing quickened as she tried to hold back a terrified scream. Hearing Christine's description of his face and actually seeing Erik was like hearing something might be hot and falling into boiling oil. Erik turned his face away and lowered his head as he passed the two women, Christine holding the maid's hand, trying to support her somehow. The maid didn't scream, didn't faint, didn't run. But she looked like she might collapse any moment now.

Erik went to his room and laid down on his couch, covering himself with a blanket.

The door opened and Christine came in, she looked sad and was very quiet. She looked around in the narrow room that was Erik's. There was the couch he used as a bed, his large cupboard and a chair. He didn't even have a nighttable or any table at all. The room was very small compared with her's. Some books were on the floor beside his couch as well as an oil lamp.

Christine sat down on the couch beside Erik and gently took his hand. He looked up to her but didn't sit up.

"I am so sorry, Erik," she whispered.  
"None of this is your fault," Erik answered, looking up at her as best as he could with his swollen eye, "I should have been more careful."  
"I still can't believe this actually happened," Christine said.

Erik shook his head. "I expected something like this. It's not the first time this happens in my life, you know. They smell weakness like all scavengers do."  
"They beat you in the street in broad daylight," Christine whispered, tears welling up in her eyes, "I still can't believe this actually happened."

"Welcome to my world," Erik whispered, bringing her hand to his swollen lips, kissing it lightly.

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 _Christine's naive trust in humankind is shattered and she understands Erik now better._


	113. Chapter 113

**Madness and Hope**

Erik slept until noon. Christine went to wake him up, she and the maid had prepared soup and she knew Erik needed to eat and to drink something to regain his strength. She suggested he should send a note to the building authority, explaining why he wasn't able to work for two weeks.

Erik couldn't wear his glasses, his face was too swollen, so he asked her to write the letter. Christine wrote to the building authority on behalf of her husband, that he couldn't work for two weeks because he had been assaulted and was badly injured.  
"One week," Erik corrected, "And don't write anything about an assault. I am no victim!"

"The doctor said two weeks and of course you are a victim in this," Christine refused gently.  
"I AM NO VICTIM!" Erik yelled at her, "It is a disgrace to allow oneself to become a victim. It's a weakness no one must ever know about. It is bad enough the police knows!"  
"But..." Christine tried to argue.  
"NO! I am no victim, I won't allow myself to become a victim! Once a victim, always a victim. I am not weak, I will not allow myself to be weak, I must not show any weakness!" He shuddered and Christine realized that he had suffered a severe trauma, worse than any physical pain. She sat down beside him on his couch and gently put her arm around his shoulders.  
"Erik, you are not weak and there is nothing to be ashamed of. You... you took down three men before they overpowered you, do you remember? And only with your bare hands," she tried to comfort him, feeling ridiculous telling him how strong he was.

"I hit someone?" he asked bewildered, he couldn't remember what had happened. All he knew was being sick, then some children throwing stones, then he was lying on the sidewalk and being beaten and kicked.  
"Yes, three men. They... they aren't badly injured but they couldn't go on beating you," she said, not knowing if this was going to help.

"I'm such a coward..." he whispered, "You have no idea how shamefully I pleaded for mercy. I am so very weak..."

"Erik, you were sick and they were... what, seventeen? Twenty? You had no chance yet you told me to run and faced them alone," she told him.  
"I did?" he asked, the thought that she hadn't been in danger herself was comforting. "I'm not as brave as you are. You called the police, you persuaded them not to arrest me but them."  
"Brave?" The young woman didn't understand why Erik would call her brave - she had screamed for help and had no idea who really called the police.  
"I'd never dare scream for help," he moaned, "For it would only call more scavengers to the dying animal."

"You are no animal and they are no scavengers," she tried to reason, "And now, please be reasonable - it won't do any good if you try to work too early."  
"It would do no good to have to live half a month without income," he retorted angrily.  
"Erik, I have enough, really, we can do this. Don't worry, we can do this."

He gave in with a sigh. "Only if you agree to send a notice to the Daroga. I want him to bring you to the opera and take you home. I trust him to protect you, if necessary with his own life."  
"Don't you think we have asked him for help too often?" Christine asked.  
"We have no choice. But you are right, maybe we should give him some sort of thank-you-gift. Now write that note, will you?"

* * *

The first three days Erik stayed in bed, his body hurt too much to get up. He was surprised he could sleep - at least slumber - close to twenty hours a day, obviously he needed that much rest to recover.

Friday was a day when Christine would stay at home all day - no rehearsal, no performance for her that day - and she wasn't sure if this was good or bad. Erik had recovered enough to get dressed and walk around in the house but he still couldn't wear a mask or his false nose. He could wear his glasses and read, but it was still uncomfortable. So he ended up sitting in the livingroom, utterly bored for he had nothing he could do. There was a tense silence between Erik and Christine. They were glad they had send the maid to go shopping, having someone cleaning up right now would have annoyed Erik even more.

A knock at the door made both of them jump. "Send everyone away!" Erik barked, but he didn't get up from the couch and continued to stare at the clock as if he could make it running faster by glaring at it.

Christine opened the door a bit, she made sure the chain was put on so the door wouldn't open more than a few centimeters. Her eyes widened as she recognized the short, fat man who stood there.

"May I come in?" he asked. Christine turned helplessly to Erik, who, of course, had recognized the head of the authority by his voice. She shrugged and turned to open the door while Erik turned away. He still couldn't wear the mask, he could only turn his back to the door. Hiding in his room would not help, he couldn't pretend not to be at home.

"Good afternoon," he greeted his superior, "I'm sorry I can't turn round..."  
"Because of your face? Really, do you think something like that would scare me?" the short man snorted.  
"Please... It is far worse..." Erik felt helpless. What could he do now?  
"You used your face to scare me once," the short man replied, but his voice was soft, "No need to hide now."

Erik turned round and the other man paled visibly and tried not to sit down uninvited. Christine noticed his discomfort and offered him a seat, which he gratefully took.  
"When I got the letter I thought you were just making things up," the short man gasped, "You look awful!"  
"Yes, the bruises and the broken nose surely spoils my otherwise very handsome face," Erik mocked and sat down at the piano bench.  
"I didn't mean it like that and you know it!" the short man barked, then reached for his bag, taking out a bottle: "In this case - I hope you get well soon."

Now it was Erik who looked like he might faint any moment. He couldn't say anything, just held onto the piano, trying to steady himself.  
"Thank you," Christine cut in, taking the bottle, "And please excuse my husbands behaviour. He suffered a severe concussion and hasn't recovered yet." She felt she had to ease the situation. It was surely not usual to get a sick bed visit from one's boss. Erik was angry for her patronizing - but he could do nothing about it now. He could only play along, so he just thanked the other man for his kindness.

"The police asked me if you really were working for me," the short man went on, "They were surprised when I said yes. They told me that you have been accused of attacking a child and a woman and then twentytwo other men. I told them you'd never do that."  
"Thank you," Erik answered for lack of anything better to say.  
"Yes, because I think you aren't stupid enough to attack a group of twentytwo men in the street at daytime. I wouldn't put it past you to attack them, but you'd never do that in such a stupid way."

Erik grinned, as wide as his still swollen face allowed it. Christine pretended to be busy so she could turn away. She still couldn't stand his face and certainly not now when he was grinning, which made him look even more horrible - despite the fact that he was actually happy.

"Whatever. I was told that you took three of them down with bare hands before they overpowered you."  
"I did?" Erik asked, he still couldn't remember and he wasn't sure if they hadn't been hurt by some of their mates in the mayhem. But when everyone thought him such a fierce fighter he would do nothing to discourage that.

"Well, never mind. I came here to check if you are really hurt or just feigning it to get a few days off. Now that I am convinced - when will you return to work?"  
"End of next week. Unless there is something urgent... maybe I can work a few hours a day sooner..." Erik offered, spreading his hands.  
"The doctor wouldn't agree to that," Christine cut in, then she asked politely if anyone wanted something to drink.

"Coffee, if you please?"  
"REAL coffee or just the stuff they sell at cafe's around Paris?" Erik asked and Christine rolled her eyes. She knew he could make Turkish coffee and jumped on the opportunity to show his superiority again. Why could Erik do nothing in a normal way? Around him everything had to be larger than life.

Erik made sure to make a show of preparing the Turkish coffee with cardamom, as he himself preferred it. When the other man complimented him, he again grinned like a schoolboy, as far as he could with his bruised face, and studied Christine's reaction to it. She gave him a slightly indulgent smile.

"We have a new task for you. When you got that job, you showed that you knew much about the catacombs and whatever is underground Paris. There are no maps, no blueprints, nothing, and there are few people who even dare to go there more than just a few hundred meters. And surely no official wants to take the risk of crawling through catacombs and sewers and maybe even collapsed areas. Now, we need to know the undermining of a certain area, but of course I can't let you do that when you aren't well."

"I'd love that job," Erik beamed with pride - that was something no one but he could accomplish. A job where he could just spend all day somewhere without having to meet people - he knew he would love that.

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	114. Chapter 114

**Madness and Hope**

The night from Friday to Saturday Christine woke because she felt a slight movement beside her. She couldn't see anything but she assumed that Erik was already awake and looking for her. But then she heared him softly whisper her name. Curious what he was doing she didn't answer and pretended to be asleep. He gave a soft sigh, then she felt him lifting the blanket a bit and climbing into her bed.

Should she be angry with him now? He knew perfectly well that she was still angry because of his last crime. Why did he feel the need to sneak into her bed without her consent? He didn't touch her, he didn't move closer to her or try to embrace her. He just stayed there, not moving, controlling his breathing so he was perfectly silent and even she couldn't hear that he was there at all.

"Erik?" she asked and he jumped out of the bed and retreated a few steps. She could hear him breathing heavily and bump into some piece of furniture.  
"I did nothing!" he defended himself, his voice betrayed that he was close to a panic attack.  
"I didn't accuse you, I just wanted to know what you are doing?"

No answer came from him and she knew he was blushing, maybe shifting from one foot to the other and probably even biting his nails.

"I am not angry, Erik, you can tell me everything," she answered and sat up.  
"I... I had a terrible nightmare..." he whispered in a childlike voice and Christine bit her lips not to laugh. It wasn't funny, but on the other hand - there was the dreaded Phantom of the Opera, crawling into her bed because of a bad dream, that definitely counted as funny.  
She shifted a bit to make room for him and lifted the blanket. "Come here," she said softly.

Erik climbed into the bed and settled down beside her. He curled into a fetal position and she wondered how a man his size could curl into such a small ball. She leaned back into her pillow and felt his hand touching her by accident. His hand was cold as ice and wet with sweat. When she turned to face him, the silk of his mask brushed her face and he recoiled panicked that their faces had touched involuntarily. Why did he react like that after such a long time? She groped around in the dark until she found his shoulder and drew him softly to her. She allowed him to rest his head against her shoulder like a frightened child would. Now she noticed that his mask was soaked with cold sweat. Why was he wearing a mask now, it surely pained him since his bruises were not healed?

"It must have been a horrible nightmare," she whispered sympathetically.  
Erik shuddered. He didn't want to talk about it. "Just hold me, please," he whispered. He was so desperate for her comforting embrace he didn't care if he made a fool of himself. Maybe he would be ashamed the next day but right now he didn't care.

Christine woke when the sunlight cast a dim glow through the shutters. The room was only dimly lit but she could see everything, everything was in a dim orange glow. If she had been in a romantic mood she would have called it a golden glow but right now she perceived it rather as orange. Erik was beside her, his eyes open, he lay on his right side, his left arm across her stomach.

He shifted a bit, still touching her, as he started to caress her with his left hand. His eyes held an adoring glow, as if he was looking at an angel. She was sure he was smiling. "I love you so much and waking up beside you is heaven," he whispered and bend down a bit to kiss her shoulder. He continued to caress her, her shoulders, her arms, kissed her hands and she found she enjoyed his gentle caress.

He pushed himself up on his elbow so he had a better view of her. He still could not understand how a radiant beauty like her could stand his touch. He knew he didn't deserve this. In moments like these he felt utterly vulnerable and unworthy of anything good in his life. She was so beautiful, it brought tears to his eyes. He lifted his mask a bit to kiss her cheek. She didn't turn away. She didn't turn away despite the fact that it wasn't too dark to see anything. Right now, even she could see him. He blushed with shame when he noticed that she was looking at him.

He debated with himself if he could go on or if he better left her alone. He didn't deserve her, he wasn't sure if she could endure his touch when it wasn't too dark to see anything. But he wanted her so much in this moment, it hurt. It hurt badly. "I love you," he whispered and dared to kiss her again, this time he kissed her forehead, allowing his lips to trail down to her ear and then to her neck.

"What are you doing?" Christine exclaimed, confused by his touch. It wasn't disgusting and he didn't hurt her, she just didn't know what he was doing.  
"I want you, my dear, I need you so much it hurts. I need you so much, if you refuse me now I burst and then I die," he whispered, his voice husky and deep but nevertheless beautiful. His voice reminded her of the purr of a very large cat, maybe a tiger.  
"The light..." she said, afraid that he would see her and she would see him. She felt ashamed and uncomfortable. It wasn't right at daytime, it was easier in the darkness of the night. She did not want him to see her body, not even parts of it.

He took her in a firm grip and rolled onto his back, pulling her on top of him so that she lay on her back on him. "You don't need to do anything, my dear, just... just surrender and don't fight me any more. You are my instrument, let me play you, let me make music, think of my music..." His voice was even more like the purr of a tiger, but not threatening, more... seductive. She had never known what it was that some called 'passion', Erik had always been gentle and considerate, trying hard to avoid anything that might hurt her. Now he didn't. He wasn't violent either but he was determined to enjoy her, just once, to the maximum, whatever that was, he had no idea, he just wanted to give in to his instincts for once.

His hands gently caressed her in a loving movement she knew only from when he played his violin. She wasn't sure if she liked it. She liked some of the ways he touched her, but she found other touches rather disturbing. "Close your eyes," he whispered, "Close your eyes." His voice was more like he was singing now, and really, he started to hum a soft melody. She wasn't sure if he did this involuntarily without even noticing.

* * *

When they finally lay there, she still on top of him, her head resting on his shoulder, both breathless and exhausted by what had just happened between them, she dared to open her eyes again. She saw the ceiling of her room and felt him struggling for breath so she rolled to her side, not facing him. He took a deep shuddering breath, then he turned to embrace her again and pressed his lips to the back of her head, kissing her hair. "I love you so much," he whispered, "Thank you."

"Didn't this hurt you?" she asked, remembering the bruises on his battered body.  
He chuckled. "No. But I guess it will hurt in a few hours," he answered. He was quite sure that what they had just done had certainly not helped him recovering. But it was worth every pain that might come from it now, and more. "Please, let me hold you," he begged, "It is such a wonderful day and the maid will not be here because of the weekend. Please, let us rest a bit."

He tried to keep his eyes open, to see her beautiful hair as it glowed like a halo around her head. He would be damned for this crime, for defiling this angel, but it was worth it. His eyelids were heavy with sated relaxation, he yawned slightly as he fell asleep.

Christine freed herself of his embrace when she heard him snoring slightly. How could a man without a nose snore? She turned to look at him. He was peacefully asleep, his breathing even, his hair and his mask sweat-soaked, but the mask was pulled up a bit to reveal his mouth and he was smiling. She noticed that his hair wasn't only brown any more, the sparse hair had silver in it like a tree in indian summer. She wondered what that had been - this time he had been able to cause her an odd feeling, odd, unusual, but very, very good. She wasn't sure if it was allowed to feel like that, but whatever it was, she liked how she too felt relaxed and a bit tired now.  
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 _Have a nice weekend!_


	115. Chapter 115

**Madness and Hope**

Christine took a bath. While she was lying in the bathtub she reflected what had happened. She wasn't really sure and had no one she could ask. Surely she couldn't ask Erik, how would he know about the feelings of a young woman? She couldn't ask Mama Valerius, the old woman didn't recognize her any longer, and she couldn't ask her only friend Raoul. Sometimes she wished she had a female friend in her age she could talk to. Was this the feeling some called 'lust'? This forbidden, sinful feeling a decent woman never experienced? But it had been good. She wished she had any explanation what had happened to her. She felt guilty that it had been Erik who had caused this feeling and wondered why. Why would she feel guilty that she had enjoyed it? He was her husband. She was supposed to do it. There was no rule that forbid liking to do your duty, was there? But logic didn't help her confused heart.

When she was ready and dressed, she went to the kitchen to prepare their breakfast. He brought breakfast to her bed each day, she wanted to do it for him now. She noticed that she had no idea where everything was in the kitchen. Where were the plates? The knifes? The cups? Finally she found everything she needed and placed it on a tray. She took the coffee grinder and placed a pot on the stove. Then she noticed that without fire the fire-burning stove wouldn't heat the water. She felt like the worst housewife ever.

When she was finished, she took the tray to her room. Erik was still asleep. She wondered that she had never noticed just how grey his hair had become. Not that she had ever cared to study him carefully, usually she tried to look not at his head but looked at his hands. They were long, a pianists hands, but they weren't beautiful. They were far too thin and the veins protruded in an odd bluish color through the pale skin. Seeing him asleep in the dim light that fell through the shutters she couldn't help the feeling that a corpse was lying in her bed. She shuddered and had to repress the urge to call her husband to ask him for help - was she going mad? She thought of Erik as if he was existing without his body. She felt guilty for thoughts like these - Erik had suffered so much in his life just for being ugly which wasn't his fault. She was determined not to add to his suffering.

When she sat down on the bed he opened his eyes and smiled at her. "I am dead and in heaven," he whispered, "Waking to the smile of an angel - not even a dream can be that glorious!"  
"You flatterer," she answered, "I made breakfast."

Erik's eyes widened and he grinned, forgetting that his mask was still pulled up so she could see his discolored teeth now. "I never had my breakfast in bed," he said, "I don't know how I can thank you for this day!"  
When they ate croissants with butter and jam and coffee Erik noticed that Christine had no idea how a real coffee was to be made. At first he had wondered if this was coffee at all or tea, it was a light brown liquid that tasted of nothing. It could have been hot water with some colour in it as well. He told her he liked it. He would have liked everything, and if she had brought him just bread and water, he would have regarded it as the best meal in his life. He was sitting in her bed, she sat beside him, and they were having breakfast. How could he not like anything about this situation?

"Tell me, was today the perfect day?" Christine asked and blushed. She hoped he wasn't keeping track of her time every month since he knew she didn't like that.  
Erik blushed and studied his cup as if this would require all his attention. A white coffee cup was very interesting, wasn't it?  
"Erik? I asked you something?" Christine went on but still didn't get any answer except Erik's ears taking on a very dark red colour. "Okay, that too is an answer," she snapped, sligthly annoyed.  
"Actually - the perfect day would be the day after tomorrow, but maybe we are lucky, biology isn't that punctual," Erik answered, his face turned away, staring at the wall, "Nothing would make me happier than having to clean up your room after morning-sickness tomorrow."  
She stared at him for a moment, repeating his last sentence in her head over and over until it's meaning finally sunk in. She laughed: "That...haha... that is... teehee... the weirdest declaration of love of... teehee... of all times!" She laughed so hard, she had to wipe the tears away and couldn't even stop when she hiccuped.  
Erik first wanted to be angry but then he understood that she wasn't mocking him, his statement really was weird. But that was how he felt right now.

After breakfast he decided to have a bath and get dressed. He felt much better as if this morning had healed him.

When he was done he asked Christine if she wanted to go for a walk. Her terrified look told him that she hadn't overcome the shock of seeing him beaten. Erik took a deep breath and sat down at the couch. "Come, sit here with me and tell me what is bothering you?" he asked.

"You really want to risk going out now? It's been just a week..." she gulped.  
"What else am I to do? I can't hide away again or do you wish us to return below the opera?" he answered calmly.  
"No, not that... but... I'm scared," she said, her voice shaking.  
"My poor Christine, no, please, don't be scared. I'm not sick now, I'm healthy and strong and we just take a cab to reach the Bois and go for walk there. Don't worry, my dear, we can do that."

She stared at him. He had been the one to suffer the beating and now he was comforting her - she should be the one comforting him! But she was scared now that she had seen what she would have never believed possible. Her faith in humankind was deeply shattered. She had always thought him to be paranoid when he had taken his weapons when he prepared to go for a walk as if he was going to a battle. Now she understood his fear better. She had always thought something like that would only happen at night in a dark and filthy sidestreet in slums, but it had happened at daytime - and so called normal people had just stood by, no one calling for help, no one helping.

"Don't be afraid, my dear, we'll be very cautious. Nothing will happen," he said softly and she nodded, not really believing him.

Before they could leave the house a knock at the door startled them. Christine went to open the door. It was the Daroga.  
"How is he?" he asked worriedly.  
"I'm fine, why do you ask?" Erik replied bewildered. How had the annoying stubborn bloodhound of a Persian found out about the incident?

"I'm glad to hear that. I was told that you were nearly killed," the Persian answered.  
"Killed? Who would tell you something like that?" Erik asked.  
"Madame Raynard," the Persian answered and Erik rolled his eyes. Of course. The good Doctor wouldn't but Madame Raynard wasn't bound to keep silent. He should never have chosen the same physician as the Daroga, but when the Daroga trusted someone this was the best recommendation one could have.

"She's making this up," Erik lied, "Nothing happened. My wife and I are going for a walk to the Bois, you want to join us?"  
"Making this up?" the Daroga asked and looked closer at Erik. The left eye behind the mask was still swollen. "If I ask your wife - would she confirm that?"  
"I would say, Madame Raynard exaggerated," Christine answered awkwardly, "But it surely had been a terrible frightening situation."

"Can we PLEASE just forget it?" Erik moaned. He wanted to forget it and move on like he had always done. No broken bones, no knife wounds, no wound infection - nothing to keep him from pretending it had never happened. That's what he had done all his life, he had no time for sitting around and whining and discussing these things endlessly. They happen, you heal, you forget it. What else could he do?

"And you really want to go out today?" the Daroga asked.  
"Of course!" Erik snapped, "I won't allow myself to be intimidated by a bunch of drunken thugs who only dared to attack me because I was sick. Now I am healthy and strong - nothing will happen! O, spare me these sympathetic looks! I don't want anyone's pity, is that understood?"

The three of them went to the park. Erik would never have admitted it but he felt better that they weren't alone but the Daroga was with them. The Daroga, who always had a fine pistol and a dagger with him when he knew he would deal with Erik that day. Christine felt uncomfortable. She knew she had two armed men at her side, one of them an ex- master assassin and one of them an ex- chief of police. But her fear was that Erik would do something stupid to cause the situation to escalate. But maybe the Persian could hold him back if necessary?

They took a cab to reach the Bois de Boulogne. There Erik offered his arm to Christine and she took it with slight hesitation, he didn't miss that but chose to ignore it. He carried his walking cane in his other hand but only tipped the ground lightly, making sure everyone saw that he didn't need the cane, he only wore it as a fancy accessory. It was a beautiful summer day and there were many people in the Bois, mainly families with children. Of course they were staring at Erik, pointing at his mask and they could hear mothers telling their children to stay away from the weird man, some small children crying of fear when they saw Erik and some older children calling him names, but that was all. No danger.

They walked along the paths through the park, enjoying the sun, the rich green of the trees and bushes, the colorful flowers and the beautifully arranged flowerbeds. Even Erik relaxed after some time. He even dared to buy chocolates for them although he didn't dare eat much of them. He was extraordinary gracious, trying show his best behaviour, he wanted Christine to enjoy the day so she would overcome her fear. He knew she couldn't just forget it and repress the memory like he did. She needed some nice memories to somehow cover the nasty one so they could continue their walks in the Bois, he so loved them. To his great surprise even the Daroga was enjoying himself.

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	116. Chapter 116

**Madness and Hope**

When Erik was finally able to go to work again, he was eager to start with his new task. His direct supervisor showed him a cellar beneath a block of flats and told him that he suspected that beneath this cellar there must be some room, cavern or passageway. Erik knew that within a diameter of five kilometers there were three entrances to the catacombs but he had no idea if there was a hole beneath that house. He could try to use the next entrance and then navigate with the help of a compass and a string in the right direction, maybe triangulate from three different entrances.

"Why is it so important to know if there is a hole down there?" Erik asked, curiously.  
"Because of the smell and the noise in the cellar. Go see yourself and talk to the owner. Some think there is a demon down there, but they are superstitious fools. I assumed there was a problem in the sewers but we already had a team down there - it's not the sewers, must be something else."

See the owner - that was the part he disliked. The owner was a short, nervous man with a grey beard who nearly jumped out of the window of his office when Erik came to see him. Erik automatically checked if his false nose was in place - it was, as well as the hat.  
"Good morning," Erik said, trying to sound as friendly as he could.  
"Um... o... yes, sorry, good morning," the grey haired man stuttered. He reminded Erik somewhat of a rat with his grey hair and the nervous movements. He even had dark eyes. A human rat.

"I'm from the building authority..." Erik tried to explain but he couldn't finish the sentence for the rat-like man just ran towards him with his arms wide spread as if he was going to embrace him.  
"Please tell me they are finally helping me?" the rat-like man exclaimed anxiously.  
"Depends on what help you need?" Erik was certainly not prepared for something like that.  
"Come, I'll show you!"

When they entered the cellar an awful smell nearly forced Erik to leave the cellar again. "Um... do you have dead rats down here?" he asked.  
"No, this cellar is empty! The smell comes from down below as well as the noises."  
Erik asked for a torch and went into the cellar. The cellar's floor was just earth, the walls bricks and some pillars supported the ceiling. There were thousands of cellars like this one, only this one was completely empty, there was nothing. He sniffed again. The smell wasn't dead rats. It wasn't anything dead, it was more like excrements and sweat. He asked for a better lantern. He had to find where the smell came from.

When the rat-like men hurried away to fetch a lamp, Erik heard something. It sounded a bit like a human coughing. When he finally got the lamp he found a tiny crack in the ground. It was too small for anything but a bug to crawl through but the smell told him that this was the pathway to the catacombs. A tiny crack in the earth. Nothing more. Finding this stinking hole would be easier than he had assumed - he would just have to follow the stench. And he had a suspicion what caused the stench and the noises - sometimes homeless people found shelter somewhere in the catacombs. There were other people down there too, mostly rich young men who were utterly bored and regarded it as a thrill to go there, even have a party there.

He tried the next entrance, which was almost north of the house he had just seen, and tried to walk south. It wasn't possible because there was no passageway directly to the south. He tried different passageways and finally found out that there was no direct way to reach whatever hole was there. The entrance must be in the second or maybe the third level. The catacombes had many levels, no one really knew how many there actually were, for the existed since the Romans had a quarry there. Some were filled with water, some already collapsed, and some were filled with bones. Erik knew there was a hole, about seven meters deep, in the second level filled with old bones. He would have to crawl over the bones to reach the next passageway. But the homeless man must have a ladder or something for wherever he made his home, it had to be even higher than the first level or there wouldn't be a crack in the cellar.

* * *

Christine met Raoul that day not in the cafe but in the Bois de Boulogne where they went to the artificial lake and Raoul rent a small boat to row her around. They weren't the only young couple to indulge in that pasttime. She told Raoul what had happened, in short words, leaving all the details.

"My poor Christine!" Raoul exclaimed, but he didn't dare stand up in that tiny boat and embrace her. They were sitting at the opposite ends of the boat and he had to be careful not to capsize. "It must have been a shock! You were very brave, but I always knew you are a brave woman."  
"I'm not brave," she replied sadly, "I'm scared. I have never thought something like that could possibly happen. I secretly mocked Erik's paranoia - and now I am scared. It happened in the open street, at daytime."  
"Did he do anything that might have caused this escalation?" Raoul asked, he suspected Erik to be the aggressor.  
"He was sick," Christine answered, then, when she thought about it, she added: "He slapped a child and a woman to defend himself against them when they threw stones and dirt at him."  
Raoul nodded. This just confirmed his suspicion. Erik had started the fight and therefor it was his own fault. "He shouldn't have done that," he observed, trying not to make it sound like an accusation.

"What would you have done, Raoul, if someone mocked you, threw stones and dirt at you?" she asked, "Would you have endured it?"  
"Maybe, maybe not. I am glad I don't know this," the young Comte answered honestly, "I was just trying to figure out what went wrong. And I am relieved to hear that they didn't attack YOU."

"I'm still frightened. I am scared when I see a group of drunken men, no matter how many other people are on the street, no matter if it is day..." she whispered and looked at the water.  
Raoul didn't know what to say so he just rowed a bit, the gentle rocking of the boat comforting her. "I will always protect you," he promised, "Whatever happens, I am there for you."

He turned his head and saw a family with children playing in the grass. "This is the Vicomtesse de Nouvelle. Did you know that she was a revue singer at the Place Pigalle?"  
"A revue girl?" Christine's eyes went wide.  
Raoul added cheerfully: "Yes, and the old man over there is her husband. The one in the wheelchair."  
"Husband? Just how old are they?" Christine asked curiously.  
"He's 78 and she is 27," Raoul answered, "And their children are two, three and four years old."  
"And... forgive my indiscreet question - are they really his?" Christine doubted than an old man in a wheelchair would father any child.  
Raoul laughed. "That's what all of Paris is talking about now. I guess her riding instructor is the real father, but there are other possible candidates too. No one knows why he married her, she... had a horrible reputation."

"So have I," Christine reminded him gently.  
Raoul realized his mistake. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to offend you. I know for sure that you are a saint - a saint! The point is - they are married despite everything. Of course everyone is talking but there are no social reprimands - they are invited to almost every social event and they aren't shunned."  
Christine smiled and shook her head. "You never give up, do you?"  
"Never," Raoul answered, then changed the subject of their chat asking her about the park and how she would prefer a garden to be arranged.

* * *

In the evening Christine noticed that Erik had missed the opera again. She didn't want to go home with the Persian as her escort so she asked Raoul to take her home in his carriage. Of course Raoul complied, but she insisted he wouldn't get off his carriage and she would enter her home alone.

Christine found the gaslight already lit, but Erik was nowhere to be seen. She went to the kitchen, but he wasn't there. When she returned to the livingroom she saw Erik coming out of the bathroom. He wore nothing but a dressing gown, which wasn't properly closed and she saw much more than she was comfortable with. She whirled round and stared at the kitchen door. Erik was as startled as she was - he had been sure she wouldn't be home for at least twenty minutes. He closed his dressing gown immediately and fled to his room to get dressed.

When he came to the kitchen Christine blushed immediately and she could see from the colour of his ears that he was red with shame. "I'm sorry," he said awkwardly, "I didn't expect you to come home that early."  
"Raoul took me in his carriage," she explained.  
"O" was all Erik could reply now.

He turned away and started to prepare the vegetables for their dinner. Suddenly he felt Christine coming to his side. "Let me help you," she suggested, "I'll never learn cooking if you insist on doing everything alone." He took a step to the side and showed her how to clean and cut the vegetables, then turned to cut the chicken flesh.

"Tell me about the opera tonight," he asked.  
"Next time, you simply come and listen to me singing. I'm not paying for a box to be empty so often," she snapped.  
He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself before he would retort something he would regret later on. "In case you have forgotten - I, too, happen to have a job. And my job sometimes require that I crawl through the catacombs and the sewers. Surely you wouldn't want to see me in the opera without taking a bath first?" His voice was harsher than he had intended.

She didn't like his answer but she knew this was going to be a nasty quarrel if she didn't back down now. "I didn't know that," she said, "And I didn't mean it as an accusation."  
"And I didn't plan on falling asleep in the bathtub," he answered, "And I am sure it will happen in the next days too - this isn't as easy as I had hoped it would be."  
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	117. Chapter 117

**Madness and Hope**

It took Erik three days until he finally found the small slip through in a walled up passageway. It was so small, even he had to lie down and crawl, his stomach constantly pressed to the earth - or at least he hoped it was only earth. It had been a good idea to fetch his old workmen's clothes from his still intact - but completely covered with spider-webs and dust - flat beneath the opera house. He would get very dirty each day he crawled around here. To his great surprise he liked it, it was a bit like exploring a yet unknown cave, it felt like an adventure. He was glad no one else had wanted that task. To be true - most men would need at least two years strict diet to loose enough weight to fit through this part of the passageway.

When he had passed the walled-up area he lit his miner's lamp again and was surprised by the trash he saw there. Obviously that passageway was the home of someone who didn't care for any hygiene in any way. He soon noticed a tripwire. So the occupant who lived there protected his privacy with very simple and ineffective traps. The tripwires - there were more than one - were connected to the empty bottles and other trash at the walls. If someone tripped over the wire, the hoarded trash would fall down with a terrible noise. Erik dimmed his lamp and readied his lasso. Whoever lived there might be dangerous.

Erik slunk carefully forward. He didn't even touch the wire, which wasn't that difficult, and finally arrived at the hole he had suspected to be there. It was bigger than the rest of the passageway as if someone had worked to enlarge the passageway here to build something like a room. It didn't look like a room, rather like a waste disposal site and the stench was worse than in the sewers. He had to fight the urge to retch as he noticed that a man slept on a heap of rags there. The stench came from the man himself and another heap of rags he obviously used as latrine. How could anyone live like that?

The man was asleep. Erik thought it might be easy to kill him and then set the room aflame with his lamp. Everyone would assume the drunken beggar had accidentally caused the fire in his drunken stupor. Yes, that would be easy. Then just tell everyone that he had discovered the dead body, have the "room" walled up and the problem was solved. But then... it would be murder. He wouldn't kill that man, no matter how disgusting he was, in his sleep. He would at least offer him a chance to escape.

"Hello," he greeted and the man jumped.  
The man was small and thin, but the oedema showed he was malnourished and ill. He had long hair and a long beard, both filthy and matted. That man obviously had lice, fleas and scabies and whatever else lived on the rats in the sewers. Erik shuddered. He would need to burn his clothes and have at least two baths before he went home. Now he congratulated himself to his idea to leave the flat beneath the opera intact. But did he still have some spare-clothes there? Never mind, he could always get something from the storeroom of the opera.

"Don't come any closer or I kill you! Communard bastard!" the filthy beggar slurred.  
"Communard...?" Erik was confused. The days of the commune were over more than ten years ago. "I am no communard."

"Prove it!" the beggar demanded, holding a broken bottle like a weapon.  
"Have you ever seen communards wearing masks?" he asked, slightly amused. That man was mad, really mad. Who knew what logic his brandied brain would accept?  
The beggar was obviously confused.

"I wear my mask because I, too, am hiding from the communards - they would put me up against the next wall if they ever caught me," Erik went on, trying to play along that madman's fantasy. Why not humor him a bit?

The beggar relaxed and sat down again. "So I am not the only one who's against those bastards! Hail to the king!" he slurred and Erik tried to figure out what to do next. If he wanted to help that man, he would have to deliver him to a hospital for he clearly was mad and needed help. But then... he pitied the drunken fool. Something told him that he himself might have ended up like that if Christine had not saved him - drunken, drugged, completely mad rotting away in the catacombs. Yes, that could have been his fate. "I could be that man," he almost heard that words echo in his head.

"Yes, hail to the king," Erik answered softly, "Did you know that there are Frenchmen outside of Paris who are fighting the communards? The Grande Armee is right outside the city."  
"Really?" the beggar asked and his face was lit with a glimmer of hope.  
"I can help you escape the city of Paris. The rest of France is free," Erik offered, not knowing if he was doing that man a favour or condemning him to a horrible death on the streets.  
"Yes, yes, show me!" the beggar weaseled around, fetching some pieces of garbage and rags he obviously considered valuable.

Erik smirked behind his mask. He didn't want that man too close to himself. Certainly not. But then he lead him through the catacombs and the sewers to an exit near the river Seine outside Paris. When they came close to the exit, they saw that it was still daylight. "We have to wait for the darkness," the beggar said anxiously. He was trembling hard and Erik knew these were signs of a beginning withdrawal. Suddenly the beggar collapsed on the ground, writhing in pain but too terrified of the communards to leave the catacombs despite the near and open exit he could see very well. Erik knew he had to do something, that man needed a drink too badly or he might die from the pain of the withdrawal. Something like that wasn't to be taken lightly.

Erik remembered that he had a flask of cognac in his pocket. He shuddered at the mere thought of it - he had used alcohol as a medicine that allowed him to relax when he was stressed, overworked, upset, angry or had eaten too much, not eaten enough or had headache far too often lately. Now that he saw first-hand where this would lead to he decided never to touch any alcohol again. Never. It was bad enough that he had a flask of brandy with him - he had already gone too far and needed to stop immediately or it would get worse.

"Here, drink this," Erik gently offered the bottle to the beggar. The man drank deeply, retched, threw up most of the brandy he had just swallowed, then drank again. The trembling ceased and he relaxed. Erik winced. "I leave you alone now," he said, keeping his voice low and comforting, "Can you manage alone from now on?"

"Son, I've stood up against the communards for three years now, I don't need your help," the beggar slurred, "But thanks for the wine." Erik shook his head. That man was gone, living completely in his own fantasy where no one else had any access to.  
"There is the exit. Use it to get away from Paris," Erik reminded him but wasn't sure the man understood correctly, even if he nodded and thanked him again.

Erik walked a few kilometers through the catacombs, then stopped and allowed himself to take a deep breath. He smelled nothing but humid, warm earth. He loved that smell. This day surely counted as one where he wished he didn't have any sense of smell after spending so much time with the beggar. He noticed that his clothes had taken on some of the stench from that drunkard and were filthy for he had been crawling through the small slip through. He needed to get rid of these clothes and get into something clean. He wouldn't go home in these clothes.

Erik went to the old flat beneath the opera. The bathroom was still working although at first ugly brown water came from the faucet. It took some time until clean water came. Erik stripped naked and washed himself with cold water. Then he put his clothes into the fireplace and build a fire. He would never wear them again. He found one of the blankets he had left there and sat on a chair before the fireplace until he was warmed up again. After that he searched his old chests if he found some clothes. He did, there was an old and worn tuxedo, but he had no fitting shirt. Never mind. No one was to see him. A black tuxedo jacked with brown trousers and a lilac shirt. Wonderful. He would look like a clown. Only then did he notice that he had accidentally burned the mask too - and there was no other mask here in his flat. No problem, he would fetch one form the costume department.

He went to the costume departement and entered the room a bit too careless - two steamsesses were there. When they saw him, they screamed "the Phantom" and fled, yelling they had been attacked by the Phantom. Wonderful, he would have to do some explaining that night. He rolled his eyes and picked a plain white mask and put it on, then checked his watch. It was late but if he hurried he would be in time for the last act of "Faust".

The Daroga could barely stop himself from laughing when he saw Erik sneaking into the box. He hadn't seen Erik dressed that odd, never.

"Stop laughing," Erik snapped, "It is not funny."  
"What happened to you that you have to wear this?" the Persian asked.  
"You want a copy of my official report?" Erik asked and then, when the Persian nodded, added sneering: "You won't get one. Official secrecy, you know."  
"Very funny," the Persian snorted, but this time he didn't ask again.

When Christine came to her dressing room she wondered why Erik wasn't there. Was he working overtime again? That new project must be something very special.  
"Christine - I don't want to startle you, I am behind the mirror," she heard Erik's voice.  
"Then please go away for I have to change into my dress, thank you," she answered. When she was finished, she called him and got his answer immediately. She knew he stood there next to the mirror and could only hope he turned away as he had promised. "Why don't you come in as usual?" she asked curiously.  
"Only if you promise not to laugh," he said.

"I promise, I won't laugh. Erik, what is it?"

He came through the mirror and she had to clasp her hands before her lips to stifle her chuckle. He looked too funny in these mismatched clothes. "You promised not to laugh," he accused her.  
"U... sorry... But you have to admit that you DO look funny," she answered, fighting hard not to laugh.  
He sighed. "Yes, I know. I guess I will have to bring some spare clothes back to my house beneath the opera or else I end up coming home in some old stage costume." When she gave him a very suspicious look he shrugged: "I'll tell you at home."  
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	118. Chapter 118

**Madness and Hope**

As soon as they came home Erik insisted on taking a bath and then getting dressed properly before he would prepare their dinner. Christine wondered what had happened that day that he was so disgusted he had to change his clothes before going home.

When Erik was frying the chicken in the pan Christine set the table. Before she could take the bottle of wine - she knew Erik liked a glass of wine or two to relax after a hard day at work - Erik stopped her. "Thank you, my dear, but no wine for me." She looked at him bewildered and he told her in a hasty speech, breathing hard as if he was undergoing physical exercise: "I drink far too regularly. It's not healthy and doesn't do any good. Today I saw where I end up if I continue drinking each day. My Christine, I will never do this to you, never. I promise I won't drink any alcohol again, at least for the next six month and then I will have to be very careful."

Christine stared at him as he leaned on the kitchen table, breathing heavily as if he had just run very fast. She didn't really know what to say. She had noticed that he liked his wine each evening but she hadn't thought this to be such a problem as long as he didn't get drunk. But now that he had said it, she had to agree that it bothered her sometimes. She was glad that it was he who had spoken about this first and he had made the decision to stop drinking without her asking him to do. His breathing calmed a bit and he ran a hand through his sparse hair.

"It is not easy to admit my weakness," Erik said, trying to steady his voice but it was still shaking, "But today I saw a man who was crazy, he thought the Commune was ruling Paris and hunting him. He was out of his mind and he's dying." Erik barked a short and bitter laugh. "In him I saw how I might have ended up - a crazy wreck, even more filthy than the rats in the sewers. There is no way of helping him any longer, he's too far gone. God, I could have ended up like that! Christine, if it wasn't for your love - and you do love me, don't you? - I would be this man." She noticed that he was crying but had no idea what she could say to comfort him. She had never seen Erik showing pity for someone else but now he was shaken by another man's cruel fate. She stood behind him and laid her arms around his chest, pressing her cheek to his back. She could feel his ribcage through the silk of his shirt and hear his breathing. His body was warm like anyone else's and he smelled of soap.

Erik moaned and clasped her hands with his left hand, pressing them to his breast, still holding onto the table for support. "Just hold me, Christine, please, hold me," he begged.  
"I'm proud of you, Erik, do you know that?" Christine whispered.  
"There's nothing to be proud of," Erik replied bitterly.  
"But there is - how many men are brave enough to face their weakness instead of denying it? You are doing the right thing and you are doing it of your own accord."  
"You are too indulgent."

* * *

The next day Erik spend in his small office, trying to write a report. It wasn't easy. Drawing a map of this section of the catacombs was easy, it showed the three entrances and the three levels of the catacombs in that area. Everyone would find it easy to navigate there with this map. The problem was to find a wording for what he had done and what he suggested would have to be done in the future. He couldn't simply state that a clean-up team was to be sent down there and then the passageway would have to be supported by pillars or walls because it had been enlarged and it was necessary to support the structure to make sure the building above wasn't in any danger. But he could not bring himself to write down an impersonal report, making this poor wretch a faceless nobody no one would ever even know about.

Finally he decided to write a detailed report as dispassionate as he could manage. In the end it was seven pages long, rather unusual for a report like that.

Only one week later there was a meeting. Erik hated meetings, he hated being in a room with so many men who would stare at him and mock him. He sat at the end of the table in the darkest corner he could find and had his hat drown deep into his face to conceal himself a bit more than just wearing false nose and mustache. Everyone knew by now that not taking off his hat inside a building was one of his odd habits.

"There was really a man living down there?" one commended on his report.  
"Only a madman would want to live in the catacombs," another one answered and Erik flinched, because that was what he had done for years - but in a much nicer flat.  
"Maybe Davisseau would," one of the young lawyers whispered to an elder architect, "He would feel at home - a corpse among corpses." They chuckled and Erik bit his lip to prevent himself from saying anything. He didn't dare fight now but it hurt that they mocked him like that when he was sitting in the same room.

"He really believed that the Communards were still there?" an elder man asked, addressing Erik directly, who just nodded.  
"Crazy drunken old fool," another one sneered.

"You have no idea what the Commune did! Maybe they tortured him until he went mad - do you have the slightest idea how easy it is to break the most sane of men and turn him into a raving mad maniac?" Erik yelled, jumping to his feet, pounding his fist on the table so hard the skin on his knuckles broke and he bled without noticing it, suddenly loosing his temper. Everyone stared at him as he stood there, trembling with rage, his eyes blazing. It was so quiet, one could have heard a pin drop. Erik took a deep breath and tried to calm himself. "If you don't believe me - I dare you to spend one night with me in the Communard's dungeon. I bet not one of you would last more than one hour until he breaks!" He sat down again, panting heavily as everyone stared at him. No one knew but he had bothered to gather a bit of information about them and knew some of their weaknesses and fears. They were effeminate bureaucrats, all of them - maybe except the head of the authority - , and he knew exactly what torture he would use on whom to break him most effectively. Of course he wouldn't do that but when he suffered their mockery he needed to imagine what he could do to them to cope with his anger and humiliation. It actually helped him calm himself and yes, he did sleep much better when he had thought about how he could torture and break them before he fell asleep.

The head of the authority was the first one to recover. "You're bleeding," he said, pointing to Erik's hand.  
Erik got up and excused himself, he needed fresh air. He went up to the roof, climbed out of the rooflight and sat down on the roof, staring at the beautiful view of the city of Paris in summer.

"Davisseau?" the short man called him but he didn't dare climb onto the roof and just looked out of the window.  
Erik turned his head. "I'm sorry. That was uncalled for."

"Actually you reminded them that not everyone had an easy life such as theirs. They forget this too easily. But you shouldn't have threatened them," his superior rebuked.  
"I know," Erik answered defeated, "And I certainly wouldn't do it. It's just... forget it. I go back and apologize."

When he climbed back into the attic, he looked at the short man and realized that he didn't look angry or anything like that. "May I ask a question, sir?" Erik asked with a little bow, unusually submissive.  
"Of course."  
"Why do you help me? After all I did to you - why?" Erik couldn't understand why this man still supported and protected him.

The short man looked up to Erik for quite a long time before he answered: "I owe you three lives. Even if I consider what I have done for you to compensate for one, I still owe you two lives."

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	119. Chapter 119

**Madness and Hope**

Two men stood in the attic, one tall and gaunt, one short and fat, and they just stared at each other for a long moment. The short one finally invited the other one to accompany him to his office, on the way down informing the others that the meeting was over.

When they sat at the office, the short one offered some brandy.

"No, thank you," Erik refused.  
"Since when do you refuse a good brandy?"  
Erik tried to figure out how to respond to that. He couldn't tell his superior of his fears that he was drinking far too regularly. "My stomach," he lied, hoping the other one wouldn't question this. It was hard enough to refuse when he would rather like a drink.  
"Tea?"  
"Yes, that would be fine."

When the office boy had served the tea, the short man leaned back in his seat and studied Erik, who was uncomfortably wiggling about in his chair and drumming his fingers on the table as if he was playing a piano. His hand still bled but he didn't notice. "You really have no idea," the short man said and Erik shook his head. He couldn't remember doing anything good to that man. They had been worthy adversaries and respected each other but nothing more.

"At first I hated you. You already had two of my colleagues beaten by 'drunken rogues who had been camping on the building site illegally' when I was given the task of inspecting the foundation of the opera house. When I came there, you were rude, informing me to be extremely careful for the building site was so very dangerous. Of course I knew you meant to frighten me away, but I was determined to find out why you tried to avoid the inspection. You remember the day I went down there to the lake and suddenly someone or something smashed my lantern and I was alone in the dark and had no idea how to find my way back? Well, the first light after hours was your mining lamp and you lit your unmasked face only inches away from me."  
"You screamed like a girl and fell into the lake," Erik remembered and grinned, he couldn't help, it was too funny.  
"It wasn't funny for me - I fell ill and lost one month. What I do not understand until now is, why you bothered to delay the inspection and then politely invited me and accompanied me?"  
"I had made a mistake and at that time I wasn't ready to admit to making any mistakes so I had to delay the inspection until I had repaired it," Erik answered. It was a lie - the truth had been that he had to cover up the secret doors to his home before any inspection could take place.

"When the war came, Garnier vanished and Davisseau too. No one thought anything about that, everyone assumed you two had fled together. I was still in Paris when the Commune took over. It was a very difficult time and my daughter fell ill - but there was no way to get the medicine. My two eldest sons knew that the unfinished opera was used as storehouse and base hospital. I forbid it, but you know how boys are - they slipped away one night to steal medicine. They were caught immediately, accused of treason and would face execution the next morning. They were held in a small room somewhere, the door was iron bars. There were five guards to make sure none of the prisoners escaped."

Erik stared at his teacup. He knew where this was leading and was highly uncomfortable with it.

"Suddenly one of the guards fell to the ground, dead, and no one knew what had happened. The other guards panicked, screamed something like "the monster" and lit every candle they had. But the monster came through the wall the guards had leaned against to protect their backs - he came and slit one guard's throat before the others could react. Then he taunted them with his voice coming from everywhere as if he was stalking them, moving through walls, calling: "No one escapes Death incarnate!" and played with them like a cat with a mouse. My sons described the monster like this: a tall man, dressed in black, his face covered with a black shawl, but in the fight he deliberately revealed his face to scare the already frightened guards. He really looked like death incarnate, but his eyes shone like glowing coals in the darkness. He moved and killed noiseless until no guard was left. Then he came back for the prisoners. You can imagine how scared they were, they were sure to die now. But they didn't, the man unlocked the doors and let all of them out, telling them to take each others hands, then he counted them, took my son's hand and lead them through the darkness."

"Did he tell them his name?" Erik asked, but he already knew the answer.

"He called himself Guillaume de Coudrier," the short man answered, "And told them there was no need to be afraid for he would save them. He saved seven men including my two sons that day. But this was not the end of the story. When he lead them to a cellar from where they could reach the street, my eldest son thanked him. The other's didn't, they just ran away in their panic. Guillaume asked my son why they had been condemned to death when they were just boys and they told him about the sick sister and the medicine. He told them to wait and disappeared into the darkness. Hours later he came back to the cellar and handed my sons a large bag with medicine and food. My sons told me that he was covered in blood and they asked him if they could join him in his fight against the Commune."

"He refused," Erik answered, he had heard enough.

"Yes, but how he did that - my son has written down the exact words: 'If you lads want to help me - grow up, find a good wife and have many children. The Commune wants you dead - your greatest victory over them is to reach old age and have many children.' Those were your words."

"No, Guillaume..." Erik tried to deny it.

"No, that was you. You just used the name of your sub-contractor to keep your own name clean," the short man replied and Erik nodded. He didn't want to admit that this sub-contractor was actually himself in another disguise. "Without you three of my children would have died. That's why I said I owe you three lives. And you never even knew."

"I have to admit that I was never a hero - I just hated the Communards. I hated them and so I stole everything I could get from them, even their prisoners. It wasn't an act of mercy, it was an act of hate. I don't want to take credit now for something that wasn't a heroic deed," Erik replied sadly.

"Nevertheless they live because you saved them."

"I am no hero! That time, I made a fortune selling those things I had stolen from the depot and the hospital. I demanded jewels and gems for a piece of stale bread and people were desperate enough to pay that price. That's why even after everything was over that Guillaume was a wanted man! I assure you, I didn't kill him... Guillaume was a drug addict long before I took his identity..." Erik had to fight back tears. He wasn't proud of what he had done that time, he had never considered one of his acts as altruistic. Saving prisoners was just to spread the fear among the Communards.

"One man's villain - another man's hero. Whatever you have done, you saved three of my children and that is something I will never forget."

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 _Some of you wondered why the chief of the authority protects Erik like that. Even Erik himself had no idea._

 _Next chapter will be up on Monday! Have a nice weekend! :-)_


	120. Chapter 120

**Madness and Hope**

Christine was singing the Queen of the Night again. She was superb, earning a standing ovation when her aria was sung.

"I wonder how something good can come out of hatred and bloodthirst," Erik mused and Nadir turned to face him in alarm.  
"What have you done now?" the Daroga asked.

"Nothing. I was just thinking. Today a man thanked me for saving the lives of his children - I never even knew I did save them. To be true, what I did back then was murder out of hatred and thirst for blood. I was a monster and yet... They live because I freed them. The Communards would have killed them, I killed the Communard guards and freed the prisoners. But I never considered this to be something good - I considered it theft, I was stealing everything from them I could get and since I couldn't use prisoners, I just abandoned them in the streets." Erik fell silent again, absently playing with his wedding ring.

"The enemy of my enemy is my friend," the Daroga replied, "You did save their lives, no matter why you did it."  
Erik shook his head. "I still do not understand this. How? How can something so ugly, so gruesome, so despicable turn out to be a good deed? That time I really acted only out of hatred and lust for blood. Saving someone was just an unwanted side-effect because I didn't want to kill the prisoners and do the dirty work for those bastards. How can anything good come from such a horrible crime?"

The Persian was overwhelmed by this confession from Erik. He had never thought his masked friend was able to such insight and self-criticism. He would have guessed that Erik would rather take credit for being a hero even if he didn't do anything - or maybe claiming he had saved someone from drowning when in truth he had been the one to try to drown him - than deny being a hero when he had actually saved lives. But he had no answer to Erik's question how something good can come out of something as terrible as the pervert joy of killing.

Erik started biting his nails and the Persian tried to figure out if he should risk stop him or not. Erik noticed how his friend stared at him and snapped irritated: "Stop staring! The stage is over there - here is nothing to be seen!"  
"Stop biting your nails," the Persian answered.  
"Stop mothering me!" Erik snapped. Having the Daroga telling him what was right and wrong was bad enough, he didn't need him to tell berate him for his bad habits too.

They glared at each other, then both men had to laugh at the sheer absurdity of the situation. "We're two old fools, aren't we?" the Daroga chuckled. Right now he felt that he had the friend of his youth back. This was the Erik he had come to appreciate, before the young man had fallen under the destructive influence of the sultana. This was the young man he had secretly called his brother. One woman had broken him and another one had put him together.

Erik leaned back in his chair and looked at the stage. "Yes, I agree. We are two old fools - you more than me, but..." He spread his hands in a meaningful gesture and grinned. The Persian smiled as he scratched his beard.

* * *

When Christine came to her dressing room Erik stood there, he had brought her a white rose made of silk. "It can't wither," he said cheerfully, "As your voice will never fail."  
"You flatterer!" she playfully rebuked and sat down at her chair to remove the diadem from her hair. It had been held by so many needles, she wondered if she would find all of them.

Erik shifted from one foot to the other, scratching his hand, scratching away the crust and reopening the wound at his knuckles. He was in good mood now and desperately wanted to tell his wife what he had learned that day.

"Are you okay?" Christine asked worriedly.  
Erik couldn't hold back any longer: "Did you know that I am a hero? I myself had no idea, I only learned today that I saved three children and now their father - you know him, it's the head of the building authority - told me. I had no idea that I saved them."

"What?" Christine's eyes went wide. She didn't understand anything now.  
"I tell you on our way home," Erik promised, then bowed to her and disappeared through the mirror, saying: "I respect your modesty, I'll wait for you at the door."

When they were at home, Erik told her that he had once risked his life to free prisoners from the dungeon the Communard's had build. He admitted that he didn't do it to help the prisoners but because he hated the Communards and wanted them to leave the unfinished opera house - only now he had learned that he had saved three children of his superior and now knew why he had been protected by this man.

Christine smiled at him. "I do believe you," she said, knowing this meant much to him and it was true. She was sure he hadn't lied to her now. He was far too excited himself right now to make something up. In that childlike excitement he usually said the truth.

He stood directly before her and suddenly reached out to gently touch her cheek. "You are so beautiful. When you smile the light of the sun seems cold and dark compared to your radiant beauty," he said and she noticed that his breathing was irregular.  
"You flatter me," she said, not knowing how to reply. He gently took her shoulder, turned her round so he stood behind her. Then he embraced her from behind and gently kissed her neck. She could feel the cloth of his mask and his lower lip. He started to gently caress her, kissing her neck again. "Um... Erik, don't you... ooops... I mean..." she stuttered embarrassed that he stared touching her like this in the livingroom with the gaslight on. It wasn't proper, it wasn't right.  
"I want to see your beauty," he replied and tightened the grip of his arms around her, pressing himself against her back.  
Then suddenly he let go of her and turned away.  
"Erik, what is it?" she asked confused. He had been so passionate and now - nothing. She hadn't done anything to discourage him or upset him, had she?

He stood with his back to her but she could see his ears turning red with shame. "I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice hoarse and shaking, "I... I want to... but... um... I can't..." It was embarrassing and humiliating. Erik didn't understand what was going on, but right now his body refused to obey.  
"Don't worry," Christine answered, "I'd like to have dinner with you and then you can hold me in your arms until I fall asleep. I'd really love that." She hoped she didn't sound too relieved. She liked his often shy embrace but she could easily do without anything else.

Erik nodded. He hated his body even more than ever. Why did this damned thing always torment him? Sometimes he had thought he would go mad with need and now that he was allowed to act on it, his body refused. Just why couldn't that ugly body of his do as it was told, just once? "I'll be in the kitchen," he said, hoping she would leave him alone for a while. He needed to calm himself.

Christine allowed him to hold her that night, she was on her back, he was curled up in fetal position, his head against her shoulder, his arm across her waist. That's how he liked it and she couldn't help wondering how such a tall man could curl up like that and find this position comfortable.

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 _It is all very confusing for Erik. Plus he faces absolute normal problems for a man his age - and he does not like it._

 _But Christine is understanding and helpful._


	121. Chapter 121

**Madness and Hope**

It was a very hot summer day when Erik found a note on his desk that he should come to the head of the authority again. He was sure he hadn't done anything wrong this time - how could he, he spend most of his day in the catacombs with his self-made tape measure and a compass, sketching and taking notes, so he could make plans of parts of the catacombs. He was sure he would never finish that task - he couldn't if he lived to be older than Methusalem, who lived to be 969 years old according to the Holy Bible. Erik doubted that Methusalem really was 969 years old, but who knew what the ancient jews called a year? If you count one month as a year he was about 80 years old and that was not impossible. But now he had no time to let his mind wander. He tried to calm himself, but it was impossible. He felt panic rise in his chest, even if he thought he had not done anything wrong this time - right and wrong wasn't his strong side.

So he entered the office with "It wasn't me!" earning a confused look from his superior, then the short man burst into laughter.  
"That's my hellhound! Denying to have done anything before even knowing what this is about!" he barked out laughing. Erik blushed and looked at his feet, giving his best impression of a schoolboy who had forgotten to do his homework. "Take a seat," the short man offered and Erik sat down, still saying nothing. "We have to discuss a serious matter."

O no. 'Serious matter' sounded very much like having to face a punishment. He tried to figure out what he possibly could have done wrong but he couldn't remember anything.  
"I got a letter from the judge," the short man stated and Erik flinched. Judge? What judge? If this was about his little corruption affair - hadn't he been told that nothing would happen to him? What if this wasn't true?

"You look like you are about to have a heart attack," the short man asked slightly amused, "Don't worry. He just thanked us for our help." Erik gave a sigh of relief. No further punishment, nothing to fear. "Do you know what had been there buried in the cellar?" the short man asked curiously.

"No," Erik answered honestly, "And I am not sure I want to know."  
"But you must have some idea?"  
"Actually, yes. I think it is literally a skeleton in the closet," he answered, "Or maybe even more corpses."  
"Why?" the short man asked curiously.  
"It has to be something that is too big to just take it away and difficult to chop. I guess it is a corpse."  
The short man studied him for a while, then shook his head. "You and your black humor. I think it is a stolen piece of art. Do we make a bet?"

Erik refused immediately: "I don't like bets - except those I know I will win."  
"You haven't lost your humor," the short man chuckled, "And we won't bet on something expensive. Look, here is the letter from the judge, I haven't opened it. If I win, you and your wife help my wife with her charity gala. Nothing big, just a soiree, and I promised my wife to find a musician."  
"I thought an official isn't allowed...?" Erik asked confused.  
"It is a charity soiree. Even a nobleman would be allowed to participate as musician."  
"And if I win?" Erik asked.  
"I grant you promotion and make you my personal assistant," the short man stated.  
"Promotion? Personal assistant? I'm not sure if this is not a punishment of sorts," Erik asked suspiciously, earning a hearty laughter from his superior.  
"O yes, keep making me laugh! You'd earn a bit more than now and you'd have to report directly to me - I would be the only one who can boss you around, but you won't have any underlings you could treat like a doormat. Perfect position for you, I guess, and highly respectable. I guess your wife would like that." The short man winked conspiratorially at Erik.

Erik snorted. "Is it that obvious that I'm a hen-pecked husband?"  
"I'm a husband too," was the only answer he would get to this, "Now, do you agree?"  
Erik thought about it. What did he have to lose? Persuade Christine to sing at a charity soiree? That would be far too easy. And when he would accompany her at the piano no one would look at him. So why not?  
"I'm in," he said, holding out his hand.  
The short man took his hand and grinned. "Deal," he said, then took an envelope from his desk and opened it. "And the winner is..." he said, then his eyes grew wide and he laughed so hard, he nearly fell from his seat. He couldn't say anything, just handed Erik the paper.

Erik took out his glasses and read the letter, then he exclaimed dumbfounded: "A MUMMY?" He shook his head and read the letter again. "I don't believe it. A sarcophagus with a mummy. It was a group of smugglers dealing with Egyptian antiques using that house as storehouse. I guess I win, then, for a mummy is a corpse - a very old one but a corpse is a corpse."

"No, I win, because a sarcophagus certainly is a piece of art," the short man retorted grinning.

"Can we agree that we both win?" Erik suggested and the short man stared at him in shock.  
"Who are you and what have you done to Davisseau?" the short man exclaimed, "I have never heard Davisseau would agree to a compromise, much less OFFER one!"  
Erik shrugged grinning. "I'm a married man - you know what that means. A compromise is the closest a husband gets to a victory. And I call it a compromise if I surrender completely but get out of it without having to grovel at her feet for days."  
This time the short man fell out of his seat in his fit of laughter.  
"Are you hurt? You won't suffocate of laughter, will you?" Erik asked, a bit worried, then added as his superior climbed back to his chair, "Well, if you die of laughing no one will ever be able to prove that it was murder..."  
"Stop it or I wet my pants!"  
"Now THAT certainly is a dangerous threat," Erik laughed, now he couldn't hold back his mirth any longer.

A secretary and an office boy opened the door to ask what happened in that office. Both men in there were slowly recovering, struggling to catch their breath, unable to answer that question. But since they had been laughing and not screaming it was easy to assume neither one was in any danger.

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 _Sorry for keeping you waiting for the solution of the little corruption case - I want this story to be a bit realistic and investigations are not done in 45 minutes like in TV. It takes month of hard work._


	122. Chapter 122

**Madness and Hope**

When Christine came to her dressing room, she saw Erik standing there, a dark red rose in his hands. He was happy, she could see it from the sparkling in his eyes.

"Brava, Madame!" he greeted her, "What a wonderful way to start our celebration tonight."  
"Celebration?" she asked, amused by his playful mood.  
"Yes, Madame. I am happy to inform you that you, Madame, are the wife of the new assistent to the head of the authority," Erik answered with an elegant bow, "I get promoted to a very respectable job - although it is not so very high in hierachy as it might seem. But it comes with a higher salary and with very much of good reputation. Since money isn't my first concern - I am married to a rich woman - the good reputation is something I really cherish."

Christine smiled at him, then she held out both hands to him, took his hands and said happily: "Congratulations! I am so very proud of you!" She leaned forward to kiss him, but he backed away alarmed.  
"What are you doing?" he asked, not used to get a kiss from her anywhere else than their home.  
She giggled: "I want to give you a kiss as is customary when congratulating someone."

He let go of her hand and folded up the cloth of his mask to reveal his lips. He was smiling, but he made sure not to reveal his teeth. "Then come, my wife, and congratulate me to my promotion - you might congratulate me all night long!"  
"Erik!" she rebuked him with a mixture of being offended and amused, "We are not at home, are we?"

"I don't care..." he answered as he kissed her cheek.  
"At least allow me to change, I will not go home in costume!"  
"Very well, and when you come out that door, I will wait in a carriage with the best horses I can get in such a short time," he answered, his smile twisting to the right side of his face, she knew this expression by now.

"I guess I will have to wait a bit longer for our dinner tonight," she sighed with feigned annoyance.

She was surprised just how fast Erik got them home. He must have paid the driver extra for getting them home that fast. When the carriage was gone, Erik led her to their home, as if she didn't know the way. As soon as she was inside, he locked the door carefully but didn't light the gaslight. She could see nothing but se knew he still saw her.

"Now, Madame, I am still waiting for my congratulations to my promotion!" he commanded, but his voice wasn't threatening but loving.  
"I do not know where you are. I can't see anything," she complained, not daring to move.

She cried out in surprise as he swept her up in his arms and carried her to her bedroom. She felt his lips at her ear as he whispered hoarsly: "Let me play music on you, my most glorious instrument. Let me make you sing out in joy for me."

When she sat on her bed afterwards, the lights on, and listened to Erik singing happily as he prepared dinner for them, she wondered what had just happened. She felt guilty for she had actually liked the way he had touched her - and she felt guilty for feeling guilty. What was wrong with her? Wasn't she supposed to accomodate to her husband? But it had been good - too good actually.

"Madame, dinner is ready," Erik exclaimed happily and took the tray to her bed. He had only one plate but it was ladden with so much food, it would easily feed four people. Erik took the fork and held out a bite for her.  
"I can eat without help," she protested.  
"Of course, my dear, but I want to feed you. Please. I have to practice..."  
"Practice WHAT?" Christine asked astonished.  
"When we will have a child. I have to be able to feed it," Erik answered sheepishly.

Christine had to laugh. Erik was absolutely sincere and quite innocent in his request so she allowed him to feed her. "Maybe I should refuse to open my mouth and yell at you to make this practice a bit more realistic," she suggested.  
Erik grinned. "Suit yourself," he answered. She didn't refuse his attempt to feed her. She had to admit she liked sitting in her bed, having him kneel beside it, feeding her delicious bits of whatever he had cooked. It was very good, but she had no idea what it was. It was something with meat, it was spicy and sweet the same time. She had long ago given up asking him what he had cooked for her - he would tell her the name of the food but since most of those she didn't recognize where Persian or Romanese she was none the wiser.

She saw Erik taking the same fork he had just fed her with and took some piece of vegetable to his lips. His eyes never left her face, studying her carefully for any reaction. Would she allow his lips to touch the fork that had just left her mouth? When she just watched him curiously, he softly took the bite with his lips, chewed it and swallowed. She studied him. He wore a white silk shirt and a black vest and black trousers. Most of his face was covered with a fawn mask, but this one was shorter than his usual masks, there was nothing to cover the mouth. Obviously he had designed this mask only for the propose of eating.

Erik took another piece of meat from the plate and held out the fork for her to take it. Christine saw that he was holding his breath, waiting anxciously if she would accept it or refuse. Would she be disgusted to know that his lips had touched the fork he was now holding out for her? Or would she accept it? He had seen lovers feeding each other, using the same knife and fork, or even feeding each other with their fingers, turning a simple meal into something very intimate, sensual. He wanted to try it himself but feared she would refuse. He knew she still didn't like his body, she couldn't look at his face and she was utterly disgusted when she had to see his face bared - something that could not be avoided living together as husband and wife, but he was careful to cover himself in her presence as much as possible.

Christine saw him tense up, struggling to keep his hand from shaking. She forced herself to smile and opened her mouth so he could continue to feed her, knowing it was a very intimate gesture and he wanted it so much. He had barely touched the fork, she repeated in her head, and after what they had just done there was really no reason to feel disgust.

He let out the breath he had been holding and smiled as he took another bite, enjoying the taste. Christine noticed that he gave her most of the meat and the best pieces of vegetables and didn't eat much himself. Obviously he didn't want to risk ruining their evening falling ill. His stomach was still giving him trouble but he concealed it masterly, hiding his weakness even from her. If she hadn't known she would easily have missed it.

When they had finished their meal he took the plate to the kitchen and returned with one glass of portwine, he handed her the glass, smiling at her.

"Don't you want to go to bed?" she asked as he stood there, unsure what to do. He kicked off his shoes and climbed onto the bed, settling down at her side.

She took a sip of wine and looked at him. She knew he wanted to share this with her too but wasn't sure if she should offer him a sip from her glass. She almost drained the glass, leaving only a small sip in it. Then she held out the glass to him.

He looked at her confused, a bit frightened, clearly debating with himself if he could accept that. But then - she handed it to him. He took the glass and turned it so he would be drinking from the same spot her lips had touched. It was a bit like kissing, a warm feeling of sharing something very special.

"I love you so much," he sighed, as he turned off the light and settled down beside her to sleep, curling up in a fetal position, facing her.  
"I love you too," she answered, smiling. His eyes widened in surprise and he drew a sharp breath, then exhaled slowly and shyly reached out for her hand. He took her hand in his, still holding it as he fell asleep.

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	123. Chapter 123

**Madness and Hope**

A few days later Erik asked Christine if she would like to sing at a charity gala in August. A group of honorable ladies worked together to host this soiree - they wanted to raise money to help talented children from poor families and orphans to get a good education. He didn't tell her about his little deal with his boss - he wanted her to make her decision without regarding what it would mean to him.

"Yes, of course, gladly!" Christine answered, "I'd love that! I have to ask for permission from the managers, but I'm sure they won't object - it is just a charity soiree and not another opera house or concert hall. I think this is a wonderful idea. Helping poor children to get an education - yes, that sounds great! How did you come to know about this soiree?"

"The wife of my superior is one of the committee," Erik answered. It was the truth, wasn't it?  
"I see. And he knows that I am a singer and asked you to ask me," Christine went on, "I really like this. Of course I won't ask for payment, the less they pay me the more the children get. Do you know how many other musicians they will have?"  
"Just you," he answered.  
"Just me? Erik, how can I sing a whole evening without anyone to accompany me?"  
Erik shrugged. "I will accompany you," he answered as if this was the most natural thing in the world.  
"YOU?" Christine was taken aback. But then she thought about it - it was a charity soiree, so why not? It would be the one and only chance for them to perform together before an audience.  
"Yes, I will be sitting at the piano, hidden by a curtain and everyone will look at you..." Erik explained, but was cut off by her.  
"No no no no no! You won't hide! You will be at my side and sing with me," she said.  
"NO! I won't... I can't..." he tried to calm himself and ran a hand through his sparse hair, which now was mostly a dark grey and only some strains of brown in it. "I can't sing with the false nose and the mustache - they tend to fall off if I am not careful, and while I am singing I can't pay attention to that. No. The risk is too high."  
"Then we both will be wearing masks," Christine offered, "As part of our act."

Erik fell silent and looked at her, studying her. "You would do THAT for me?" he asked, not believing what he had just heard, "You would wear a mask for me? You would lower yourself to... to place yourself on the same level with me? I can't allow that! Christine..." he placed his hands on her shoulders, forcing her to look at his eyes, "Christine, I can't allow this! I have put you through so much trouble and humiliation before - no, I can't... I can't allow you to humiliate yourself and perform in a mask. No."

She took his hands gently in hers. "Erik, it is a performance. Why can't we wear masks? We can both take the masks off afterwards, then you can wear your false nose, but there is no reason we shouldn't wear masks."

She saw tears welling up in his eyes that looked yellow in the gaslight. His hands were shaking and his breathing ragged, as if he was fighting back tears. "I will do this for you," she said, allowing him to press her left hand to his breast while she reached for his neck with her right hand. "I will do this and not even you can prevent me from doing so."

"God knows I do not deserve you," Erik whispered, as he sank to his knees before her, "I love you so much. Christine, how can you do that? How can you endure that humiliation at my side after all I put you through? How?"  
"It won't be a humiliation," she stated firmly, "We will sing together, Erik, that is to be our greatest triumph and certainly nothing humiliating."  
"They will demand that we take off the masks..."  
"And? You can take off the mask in private, put on the false nose and it won't be a problem. I'm sure they won't make fun of you - it is a charity soiree! Only nobility will be there, they know how to behave, they won't attack you or mock you, I am sure, they will be polite."

Erik leaned his head into her hand. "They will mock us behind our back instead of spiting in our face. But they will still ridicule us."  
He was right. Christine knew how this was going to be - of course they would be talked about. And she knew perfectly well what they said about her being married to an old, ugly man who was seldom be seen. "Then let them talk," she said, "They will talk anyway. But I won't miss the chance of singing with you."

"One condition," Erik sighed, "You discuss this with the ladies of the committee. If they agree to us wearing masks, I'm in, if not, forget it. And I will not be the one to discuss this with anyone - you do that."  
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 _Christine loves the idea to perform together with Erik - but now that she does not want him to hide, he's the one who gets cold feet. But he can't back out now without making a fool of himself in her eyes._


	124. Chapter 124

**Madness and Hope**

The closer the soiree came, the more excited Erik and Christine grew. They loved to work together to plan something like a short concert, with only duets for them to sing. It had been far too easy to convince the managers of the opera house to allow Christine that she performed at a charity soiree and when she had met the ladies of the committee they had been very friendly and polite, although at first her suggestion that they would wear masks while singing was met with great surprise. But then the lady whom Christine knew to be the wife of Erik's superior had pointed out that this was a very interesting idea to hear the music and not see the faces of the musicians. Let music speak for itself, hide the singers. That was unusual and she was sure it would turn out nicely with the audience.

Working together in preparing this soiree was great for Erik and Christine. They could spend time together, he sitting at the piano, she standing next to him, as they endlessly discussed which duet to sing and about every detail - Erik actually asked her opinion in everything and most times was surprised to find that they agreed. When they disagreed, it was Christine who always backed down, for music was one thing one couldn't discuss with Erik - he knew better and he would never ever agree to a compromise. When it came to music, nothing but absolute perfection was good enough, and sometimes Christine wondered if Erik wouldn't consider pure perfection anything but just barely good enough.

The charity soiree was to be at the hôtel particulier of an elderly duchess, for there they would have a room large enough for all the guests they wanted to invite. And they had a grand piano. One of the guest rooms would be ready for the diva and her husband, who had agreed to play the piano, as some sort of makeshift dressing room.

This time it was Erik who was nervous while to Christine this was just a charity soiree where nothing could go wrong, no big deal, nothing to fear, Erik nearly freaked out in panic. He suddenly did no longer want to do this, he was afraid of putting himself on display, but at the same time wanted nothing but to sing with Christine, to let the whole world know just how beautiful their voices matched. He was like a child - anxious and scared at the same time. The only time he found some sort of relief was when he was wandering the catacombs with his notebook, exploring them with the same feeling like a small boy going on an adventure to explore the wood. To Erik, the darkness and quiet of the catacombs were relief from all the noise and colour that usually attacked his sensitive senses.

And through this mix of feelings he couldn't cope with suddenly came a new idea for music - a music he couldn't write as he usually did, for he had a job to do and not the time to just sit at his piano and compose for days without taking a break. It was quite frustrating to have to go to work each day and when he finally had some time for his music either Christine demanded that he went to the opera to hear her or he was too tired to compose, and if he wasn't, Christine was not very happy when he had a wonderful idea at three o'clock in the morning and tried it on the piano. When he thought he could use the weekend for his music, he had to cancel other things he usually liked, like their Sunday-afternoon-walk to the Bois. Finally he decided one weekend would have to be enough to write a duet. That time he did not understand himself - he had a wife who loved him, he had a normal life, he had everything he had ever dreamed of, so why wasn't he just happy and contend? Why did he miss the time he had been composing for weeks without taking a break, when this music had been fueled by nothing but pain? Surely he did not want that back, did he? But then - some more time for his music would be nice. What was wrong with him? Why couldn't he just be happy? Why did he always want something more?

The one weekend Erik asked Christine to leave him to his music she decided to stay at home and watch him. She had never seen him composing something and she was curious how this would be like. At first, it was nothing. Erik would run around in the livingroom, pushing the furniture around, creating absolute chaos and sometimes even yelling at her that everything was in his way and there were too many noises to distract him. Then he sat down and played two or three notes. And suddenly he seemed to forget everything around him and was just playing. He played with his eyes closed as if he could read the score in his mind. Then he stopped and wrote it down. Composing the music for the duet took him only half a day, then he remembered that Christine was there and played it for her, the the two voices and the piano, so she could imagine what it would be like.

"Aren't you hungry?" Christine asked and he stared at her bewildered as if she had asked him something absolutely unthinkable.  
He blinked and remembered that they surely should eat something. At least she could be hungry, couldn't she? Should he risk interrupting the creative process now for something so profane as food?

Christine laughed at his confused expression. He looked like a man waking from a very deep slumber. "I'll fix us something. Only some cheese and bread, if you like. But you really should eat something and of course drink some water. You already have stomach trouble, you do not need more of it, do you?"  
Erik couldn't help but grin. "Yes, mother," he answered sheepishly, but she could tell by the sparkle in his eyes that he really loved this.

Erik didn't concentrate on his food. He would take a bite, then start humming the melody and then take notes in a notebook. Christine had finished her meal while he had taken one or two bites.  
"Erik, are you okay?" she asked, a bit annoyed that he ignored her completely. He grunted something unintelligible. "Erik, do you hear me?" He waved his hand as if he was shooing away a pesky fly. "Erik, I asked if..." she began, then decided to test this, "...if you liked to a flea into your tea?" He grunted and nodded. "Really? A flea? Okay, and maybe you like to wear pink?" This time he mumbled something like 'yes dear' and continued to scribble something in his notebook. "Erik, you are not listening!" she complained.  
"As you wish," he answered without taking his eyes off his notebook.  
"Erik!" she called out a bit louder. Still he did not react. He started mumbling something about how limited grammar was when he tried to express something and he didn't like the way grammar reduced the melody of a language. "ERIK!" Christine now nearly screamed.  
He bolted, dropping his notebook. Then he picked it up and placed it on the table, but obviously his mind was somewhere else for he placed it on his cheese and his pencil in the glass of water. "Why are you stressing your vocal cords, my dear? I'm not deaf," he rebuked her, somewhat annoyed, and Christine giggled.  
"You were deep in thought, you didn't realize I was talking to you. And look - you put your notebook in your cheese and the pencil in the glass of water!" she scolded him.

Erik blushed. He wasn't used to have food and water around him when he was in his creative mood. "Ugh... yes, right. Sorry," he mumbled, then cleared his throat and wiped his notebook clean with the tablecloth. Obviously he still wasn't paying attention to what he was doing. "Christine, composing is so much easier than poetize. Music has nearly no limits, if it sounds good, it sounds good - and if it sounds good against all rules it still is good. But writing... it is so... limited," he explained.

He started to read to her what he had written so far. It was the text for his duet. It started with her in a simple tune singing about the beautiful sunshine. He answered with describing a cold winter day in the alps. She sung about the blossoming of flowers in spring and how love would bloom between two birds. He answered with "Winter's heart can never hope for a flower to bloom."

"So, and now I'm completely struck," he confessed, "I think it is quite a nice duet until now, but how do we proceed? The music is... is... beautiful, loving, happy, but how can I write a text for it?"  
"I have an idea," she answered, "The sun is smiling in spring as love grows like flowers in May, no longer do I fear you, all darkness wiped away."  
"That... that's good!" Erik answered, "Really, I love it."  
"No, it's not good. Just a childish sentence and it doesn't even rhyme properly."

"No, I like that. I... The next part would be ours together: 'Love overcomes all darkness, love overcomes all fear, love blends two lives to one.' It does not rhyme, but I like it nevertheless." He turned to scribe it down, then looked up and sung to her the next phrase as if it had just appeared on his notebook magically: "Steeled in the fire of love, we face all perils together, steeled in the fire of love, we break the chains of fate, for love is stronger than destiny, love is stronger than death."

Christine sat there, staring at him. Of course this didn't rhyme too, but it was wonderful. The text might be a sappy, but the music made it wonderful. It would be a trial to sing this, the music was demanding. They would both have to use their full range, which was in his case a deep baritone to higher alto and in her case a higher mezzo-soprano to coloratura soprano. She doubted there would be many singers who could sing that song properly, even the pianist would face a severe challenge. Erik was determined to show what he really could do once he was given the chance.

"I am certainly not good in writing poetry," Erik sighed frustrated throwing the pencil across the room, "I'm sorry."  
"O Erik, do your think that matters? The text is so... insignificant with music like your's. You could sing an instruction manual and people would love it."  
They burst out in laughter at the mere thought of it. "O Christine, you are the only person in this world who can make me laugh at my weaknesses and faults," Erik exclaimed happily.

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 _Maybe they should put up a warning sign "mad genius at work - enter at your own peril" ;-)_

 _Watching Erik composing is nothing like Christine had assumed. And he is a musician, not a librettist, he tries to make up for his lack of talent, but it is a bit frustrating._

 _Have a nice weekend! Next chapter will be up on Monday, Tuesday at the latest. Please review!_


	125. Chapter 125

**Madness and Hope**

At the end of August the charity soiree finally took place. Christine wore a light green dress and a mask made of the same fabric. Erik wore a formal black suit and a white mask and a wig - to fit his age the wig was grey. Standing together before a mirror, Christine had to admit that he looked like a man who wore the mask just as a costume for his performance. "Nervous?" she asked as Erik checked for the for the umpteenth time if his tie was correct.

"Certainly not," he answered, "I have performed in much bigger events - and sometimes my life was at stake, a bad performance could have cost my head and I have never been nervous," he said nonchalant.  
"Your nails tell me different," she chuckled, pointing to his far too short finger nails, "Thank you. It makes it so much easier for me to see that you too are a bit nervous."

The committee had obviously done good work for there was at least one member every family of the upper class of France there, real nobility and financial aristocracy. Erik winced when he saw Raoul de Chagny. Of course. This was an event that pesky boy was supposed to attend, how could he have hoped for him to stay away? There were other people he recognized immediately. Of course the head of the building authority and his wife and Richard Firmin. Erik took a deep breath and prayed silently that he would survive that evening without being recognized. Just why had he agreed to perform as a musician? Why? He was old enough to know better than putting himself on display! Vanity be damned!

But then Christine stepped into the spotlight and everyone fell silent. She made a curtsy and greeted everyone. When she straightened she explained that she and her husband would wear masks during their performance to allow the audience to concentrate solely on the music and not be distracted by anything else. There was a murmur in the room, this was something knew. Well, they would have to accept that. Erik took his place at the piano and now it was Raoul who winced and nearly choked on his champagne. The young Comte couldn't believe Erik had the audacity to perform in public with Christine.

Suddenly Erik played a short prelude, one he just improvised right then and there, and Christine shot him a confused glance. She hadn't expected him to improvise. When he nodded to her she understood that he was now ready to start the duet they had chosen to be the first one this evening. Christine still wondered why he had given her the choice of the first duet and she had chosen the duet between Faust and Marguerite.

Never had a room full of people, most of them still had their champagne glasses, been so quiet as when they ended. Everyone was holding his breath, all eyes on Erik's long fingers on the piano until the very last moment. Suddenly all of them burst into applause, all at once, even Raoul couldn't deny the fact that their voices were the perfect match.

Next they sang the duet from Othello and Raoul pressed his handkerchief to his mouth, hoping he would not be sick - their voices were fantastic, both sung with so much passion, so very much real emotion - but to Raoul it was nothing but painful. He wasn't sure if he would survive that evening. The rest of the audience, who had been expecting one of the usual boring charity soirees with more or less forgettable music, was enthusiastic. Of course by now some of them knew that it was the current primadonna of the Opera Populaire who was dressed like a goddess of spring. But who was the male singer, who accompanied them on the piano as well? The few people who knew were utterly astonished for most of them hadn't even known Erique Davisseau had any talent for music or could sing and play the piano. There were only two who knew - the head of the building authority, who had never guessed Erik was such a formidable singer, and the Comte de Chagny, who silently cursed Erik's talent. Why could Erik manipulate even him with this angelic voice of his? How was it possible to be forced to admire someone whom he hated so much?

They had a program for about one hour, but it took longer for the audience applauded so much. No one could deny that these two voices were the perfect match, both with an impressive range and a haunting beauty, but somehow the man seemed to be the better singer, his voice was of an unearthly beauty, no one could resist its spell. If there was such a thing as a perfect voice, it was this man's. And all the while his fingers were dancing over the piano keys, sometimes too fast for the human eye to follow.

When they ended, the duchess who hosted the soiree went to them and asked if she was allowed to introduce them now, since the audience was so enthusiastic. Christine looked at Erik who nodded softly. So Christine made a curtsy as the duchess said: "Medame, Messieur, may I introduce Christine Daae, primadonna of the Opera Populaire." A standing ovation followed. Then the duchess turned to Erik, a bit at loss for she didn't really know how to introduce him.

Erik got up from the piano stool and said in an amused tone, waiving one hand to indicate how unimportant this information was, pointing to Christine with his other hand: "I am just her husband." The audience laughed and applauded. Erik didn't like how his superior suddenly got up and went to him as if to congratulate him.  
"Since you are too modest to introduce yourself properly, I guess I have to do this - this is my assistant Erique Davisseau, he agreed to play for us today to contribute to our charity foundation," the short man said and Erik was forced to play along and bow to them. He was torn between enjoying the applause and fear that they demand he took off his mask.

"My wife and I both know what it is like to be orphaned and living in bitter poverty," Erik said, his voice slightly quavering, pouring as much of his own feelings in his words as he dared, "We know what it is like to have no food, no shelter, no hope for a better future. So if we have the chance to save one child from that fate, we'll gladly do everything." The audience was moved to tears. His voice touched their hearts.

"We have one more duet for you," he went on and took his place at the piano again. Erik nodded to Christine. This time she did not stand with her back to him, facing the audience, she leaned against the piano facing him. Their gazes locked, dark blue eyes shining like sapphire, yellow ones like amber. Both nodded to each other, then Erik's long fingers hit the piano keys as they sang the special duet he had composed recently. This duet was a masterpiece and a challenge to both singers and the pianist. Those in the audience who knew something about music didn't understand how Erik was able to play that demanding score - maybe the five best pianists in France would be able to play it but no one else - and sing at the same time, singing in a duet that seemed to be absolutely impossible to sing.

When they finished their duet with the phrase "Love is stronger than death," the audience was in tears, most of all Raoul. He had never heard Erik and Christine sing together, and surely never like that. If there would ever be a perfect match of two voices it was their's and they sung with so much passion, so much love, they gave all they had, not competing with each other but supporting each other, both in perfect harmony. Raoul felt as if he was going to die - he knew now that this was the one thing he would never be able to share with Christine. He himself had learned to play the piano as a child and it wasn't as if he wasn't an adequate hobby pianist, but he would never share this glorious music with her, this was something only Erik could give.

When they ended Christine sank to the floor, exhausted, barely conscious. Erik knelt down beside her, helped her to sit up a bit, as she leaned her head against his shoulder, but he could not lift her in his arms, he himself was struggling to catch his breath and not to faint himself. "Today I gave you my soul," he whispered in her ear, only she could hear it, no one else. She wept behind her mask, unashamed of her tears, overwhelmed with emotion she could not define or understand.

"Are you okay?" the duchess asked worriedly.  
"She needs rest," Erik answered cautiously.  
"Of course," the duchess answered, "Come, you can use the guest room. If you want to you can stay for the night?"  
"That won't be necessary," Erik answered as he got up, he had recovered enough to carry Christine in his arms, "Thank you very much. We will be happy to return to the party soon." He took her to the room that was the makeshift dressing room and laid her down on the chaiselongue. Then he locked the door and slumped in the chair, finally allowing himself to relax. He needed to close his eyes and control his breathing, he needed to calm down, he himself needed rest.

When Erik opened his eyes again, Christine stood next to him, she had taken off her mask and his, the masks were lying discarded on the floor, and she studied him worriedly. "Erik, are you ill?" she asked.  
"What? Have I fallen asleep?" he asked confused.  
"It was a bit too much," she said, "for both of us. But now I'd like to join the party, I'm starving."  
"I guess I could use a glass of water," he replied, then took his false nose with the mustache out of his pocket and fixed it to his face as he always did. He had to use the mirror to make sure it was perfectly in place and wouldn't give away the gruesome lack of a nose. "I'm still ugly as sin," he smirked in self-mockery and self-loathing "The most hideous man in France. And you are forced to return to the party at my side - they will mock us, I'm afraid."

"After they heard us sing? No, I don't think so."

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 _They sung together before an audience. In the next chapter I will describe what happened at the party. Stay tuned!_


	126. Chapter 126

**Madness and Hope**

When they returned to the hall, Christine took Erik's arm as if he was guiding her, but she knew that he needed someone he could hold onto. Now that his ugly face was nearly bare he seemed to weaken, he was ashamed and afraid to face the audience again. He was doing this for her, she knew, if it had been up to him he would simply have disappeared through the window or a sidedoor.

Immediately they were greeted by Richard Firmin who felt he should be the first one to praise his diva. Erik gulped and hoped he would not be sick with fear. Why, just why, had this man to be here? Couldn't he stay at the Opera like any good manager and have an affair with the ballet rats for all he cared? Christine thanked Firmin politely and soon they were drawn into a group of people who laughed and talked about music.

Maybe Erik would have enjoyed this for what they had to say was interesting, if he hadn't been that afraid Firmin might come up with the idea that he was the Phantom. God, why had he made the terrible mistake showing his Erique-Davisseau-face at the welcome party of the new managers? Why hadn't he used another masquerade?

Worst of all, Firmin was determined to tell funny anecdotes from the opera to entertain his patrons. Erik glanced round to see who was listening, silently praying that his superior - who knew his face - wouldn't listen to any description of the Phantom. If he would, Erik knew he would lose everything he had fought for. He would be on the run, haunted by the police, he would have to leave France and he wasn't sure if he could do that right now with Christine in tow. They would be ruined, both of them. Running away now was no option at all, he needed to stay now, he needed to observe who would talk to whom and if necessary interfere.

Firmin really told the story that someone - he still wasn't sure if it was Poligny, Debienne or Moncharmin - played a prank on him, telling about a ghost that haunted the Opera Populaire. Erik groaned and rolled his eyes. If he survived that evening, lightening a candle at the church wouldn't be enough, having a mass read wouldn't, he would have to build a chapel, no, a cathedral bigger than Notre Dame to express his gratefulness. Of course he knew he wouldn't be able to actually do this, but...

"...and whom do you think that silly girl mistook for the 'Phantom'?" Firmin happily told and Erik tried his best to stay on his feet and not be sick. Christine had turned very pale and was slightly trembling, she too knew all too well where this was heading, but she admired Erik's self-control. He stood there, looking bored and slightly amused as if he was hearing that anecdote for the umpteenth time. How could be be that calm when literally his life was at stake? She didn't know that Erik always wore that arrogant smile and pretended to be bored when he was panicked. He had learned never to show fear in a fight, it would only help his opponent. A very hard-learned lesson and it was so deep, Erik didn't even have to think to act accordingly. His natural ability to function even in the worst fit of madness now helped him to keep up the pretense.

Firmin didn't notice any of their troubles and went on happily as if he was now coming to the payoff of a really good joke: "Monsieur Davisseau, the building inspector. This is just too funny, as if an official would indulge in such silly pranks!" Firmin laughed heartily and his listeners with him. Christine laughed out of relief and Erik just stood there, still the slightly arrogant smile on his face. If he had had eaten anything in the last hours he was sure he would have been sick by now. Just his luck he had cancelled his lunch that day.

"Yes, this is really an absurd idea," Raoul cut in, smiling sardonically. He knew Erik was highly uncomfortable in this situation and he had watched him closely - Erik was playing with his ring, his fingers constantly moving in an awkward way. Erik groaned and rolled his eyes. He was standing between Scylla and Charybdis and didn't know what to do. Raoul had a glass of champagne in his hand, raised it and complimented Christine for her really wonderful performance, ignoring Erik, who was very thankful for that. Raoul turned to Erik. "Monsieur Davisseau, the last duet... I've never heard that before?"  
"Of course not, we wrote it only a few weeks ago," Erik answered, hoping they would drop the subject. Glancing around he found his superior and his wife at the buffet, so they were far enough away they would not overhear anything. He would have to make sure Firmin would never get close to...  
"You wrote it?" Firmin asked astonished.  
"My wife and I, yes," Erik answered lightly, "It's nothing, just a hobby of mine. Sometimes I play a little bit..."  
"Hobby?" Firmin asked, then laughed, "That's a nice joke. Just a hobby! Ha! My compliments, Madame, and my deepest apology. I never understood why you married him, but now that I have heard you two together, I can only say that you are the perfect match."

Raoul had to leave the room and went to the balcony. He could take no more and needed fresh air. When he leaned against the balustrade he heard the door click shut, someone else was on the balcony, someone who moved without any noise at all. The Come had a certain suspicion who this would be.

"We need to talk," Erik said softly.  
"We have nothing to talk about," Raoul retorted coldly and turned round. He saw Erik standing there, dressed in an elegant suit, his face concealed by the darkness, the light from the hall falling through the glass door.  
Erik turned slightly and looked at Christine, who was having a polite conversation with the duchess. Both men on the balcony watched her for a while.

"Tell me, Monsieur le Comte, do you still wait to marry her?" Erik asked, his piercing eyes studying the younger man.  
Raoul felt uncomfortable under the glare of his enemy. If he said yes, would Erik kill him? But then he decided to take the risk as he answered passionately: "I will never give up my hope to become her husband. If I had any choice, I'd marry her before your corpse was buried."  
"You know that she is expecting?" Erik asked.  
Raoul shook his head, unsure where this conversation would lead.  
"I thought so. She hasn't told me yet, but I am sure she is. Second or third month," Erik explained matter-of-factly. Raoul kept quiet, just looked at Erik. "There is the risk the child will be deformed," Erik went on sadly.  
"But she said...?" Raoul asked confused. Christine had told him that the child had been 'perfect' according to Erik.  
Erik smiled sadly and shook his head. "He had no nose," he explained, "But I would never dare call any child of hers anything but perfect."  
"And you had the audacity to name that freak of yours after my brother whom you murdered!" Raoul spat, his hands clenching into fists.  
Erik nodded. "Yes. And I still do not know why. It wasn't meant as an offence."  
"So, you are telling me that you are going to be a father. What do you want? Congratulations or condolences?" the young Comte hissed.  
"Would you marry Christine if she has my child?" Erik asked, "And would you hate that child or would you be kind and raise it?"  
"I do not know why this is any concern of your's," Raoul spat enraged, "I am no such monster to take my revenge on a child. No Monsieur, I will marry her and raise that child as mine, I will wipe out every evidence that you ever existed, erase every memory of your unnatural god-forsaken existence, and if I have to adopt your child, so be it!"

To his great surprise Erik didn't get angry, on the contrary, his expression softened as the tall man leaned against the balustrade and let out a sigh of relief. "Thank you," he said simply.  
"You THANK me?" Raoul asked, feeling his anger dissipate, "Why are you telling me this?"  
"Because... I am dying," Erik answered, his voice low and quavering. He had hoped to do this without showing weakness but he couldn't.  
"WHAT?"  
"Hush! Not that loud! They mustn't know!" Erik hissed, then controlled himself again, "Yes, I am dying. I... I suffer from an illness that eats me alive, it is called cancer."  
"Never heard of this," Raoul admitted.  
"Me too until the doctor told me I have it," Erik sighed.

They grew quiet, watching Christine, who was surrounded by the women of the committee, all wished to congratulate her to that performance.  
"I won't keep you waiting too long," Erik whispered.  
"How long?" Raoul could have slapped himself. How could he be so insensitive? How could he forget his manners like that?  
Erik chuckled. "According to my doctor I died a few month ago. You see, I am literally a living corpse."  
"What?" the young man didn't understand.

"The pains started around last Christmas. The doctor said most patients died withing a few month, my chances to survive longer than Easter Sunday were minimal. But Easter Sunday came, and I lived. Then my doctor said, I am lucky that I am that strong, but I wouldn't live to see June. Now we have end of August and I am still alive and more than that, I am able to work."  
"You knew all the time that you were dying and you fathered a child nevertheless?" Raoul asked furiously, "You selfish monster! How could you?"  
"I thought the doctor was wrong! I thought I had something else, less deadly. I..." Erik shook his head and took a deep breath, "I didn't want to believe it. Now my single goal is to see my child born, but... well, if you consult five doctors and they offer to treat you for free because they have never seen a patient with your illness to survive that long..." Erik spread his hands, hoping he would not have to tell more details. "I wish I knew how long I will live. According to my doctor the chances that I will be able to see Christmas are 1:1000 at best."

Raoul couldn't help himself, he started to calculate the date. It was end of August, so if Erik died before Christmas, the child would be born when? Second or third month - so that would be February? March? Then he could marry Christine - if she agreed to marry him, that is - soon, maybe May? He looked at Erik who leaned against the balustrade, hunched over and his head lowered. Tears were running down the macabre features. Raoul found that he pitied the deformed man. Just how desperate must he be to turn to his worst enemy for help and comfort when he was dying?

"Does she know?" Raoul asked gently.  
"No. I want to enjoy every moment with her untainted by sadness."  
"She does not deserve this," Raoul said, "You have to tell her. You can't take that decision from her, she has to know. She would suffer all her live if there was something unsaid between you. You can't be that cruel to her and die without telling her in time."  
"Are YOU giving me advice?" Erik asked astonished.  
"Who knows, except you and your doctor?" Raoul asked.  
"Just you," Erik confessed sadly, "I prefer not to worry or trouble anyone with that illness of mine. The pains come and go and until now I manage without painkillers. I hope to keep up the pretense until I drop dead. I... I just needed to know that Christine will not be all alone, a young widow with a child that might be deformed. I can't stand the thought that she would..." Erik's voice failed him. He could say nothing more.  
"If you want my advice - don't. It is far more painful for those you leave behind if they have no chance to make peace," Raoul said, "You murdered my brother before I had any chance to apologize for that terrible quarrel we had the very night before his death and it will haunt me for the rest of my life. Don't do that to Christine."

Erik had to sit down at a small bench on the balcony. His knees simply gave way, he couldn't stand upright any longer. The pain he now felt wasn't physical, but it crushed him even more. "I would give everything to undo the horror I inflicted on you and Christine," he whispered, "Everything. I STOLE those years of happiness with Christine... it was never meant to be mine, I never deserved it."

"Then do your best to keep her happy for those few month you have left," Raoul said and held out his hand to help Erik to his feet, "And thank you."  
Erik looked up. "Why do you thank me?"  
"For trusting me to look after Christine after your death," Raoul answered and Erik took his hand and got to his feet. He was still slightly swaying as they came back to the hall.

Raoul stood at the door and watched Erik approaching Christine. Erik seemed to be excited and happy as they accepted the endless praise from various members of their audience, standing side by side with Christine. They made a weird couple - she a radiant beauty, he looking like a corpse, even with his false nose and the mustache. Raoul left the soiree silently, now that he knew it was the last one she would share with Erik he didn't want her to feel uncomfortable in his presence.

Christine was suprised to find Erik at his best behaviour, charming, polite and entertaining. She did also notice that Erik tried to keep their superiors from meeting each other. Of course, if Richard Firmin told some of his funny anecdotes about the "Phantom prank" and the other man, who knew far too much about Erik - he knew Erik's face, he knew Erik had been the contractor who build the basement of the opera house and most of the inner structure - got to overhear a description of the Phantom, worse than that, overheared that funny anecdote about a drunken ballet rat mistaking Davisseau for the Phantom - you didn't need the be the Daroga to put two and two together. But then Firmin left the soiree with his wife and Christine and Erik sighed with relief.

Despite all odds it turned out a rather nice evening - or night that is, for when Erik and Christine finally got home, the first light of the sunrise lit the streets of Paris in a bluish light. As soon as they got home, Erik collapsed on Christines bed, he was asleep before his head hit the pillow.

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 _No one can live forever, not even Erik._

 _I planned for this from the beginning in memory of a dear friend of mine who died 2013. In the chapters that will follow maybe you will understand why._


	127. Chapter 127

**Madness and Hope**

Christine woke shortly after noon that Sunday. She was lying on her left side and found herself nose to no-nose with Erik, who was still asleep. She smelled his breath - that wasn't good that moment - as he exhaled, his mouth was slightly opened and he was drooling. Christine had seen his face before, but now, with the shutters open, the sunlight falling directly on his deformed face, merciless revealing every scar, every wrinkle, every skin blemish and worst of all showing her his nasal cavity in all gruesome detail, she recoiled with a disgusted scream, pressing one hand to her mouth, trying not to be sick. She could not believe this... this corpse had made love to her, had buried himself in her, had even made her enjoy this.

Her scream woke Erik, who was at his feet almost the same moment, a lasso in his left hand, ready to strike. Only then did he look around a bit bewildered, finding no intruder, but Christine standing on the other side of the bed, trembling, one hand pressed to her stomach, the other one to her lips. "Christine, darling, what is it?" he asked worriedly, before he noticed that he wore no mask and his false nose was on the nighttable. He dropped the lasso and looked around but couldn't find his mask. That moment Christine was sick beside the bed.

"Christine!" Erik forgot about his mask and rushed to her side, gently holding back her hair until the retching subsided. "Hush, calm yourself, dear, it's okay," he whispered softly.  
"I'm sorry," Christine said. As long as he was behind her, she didn't think of him as that ugly, no, his touch was rather comforting.  
"No, my dear, no need to be sorry. Just go to the bathroom and wash, I'll clean up," he offered gently.

When Christine had finished her bath she felt much better. Erik had already cleaned her room, even changed the sheets on her bed, and she was glad to see he had covered his face with a mask. "Do you feel better?" he asked and she nodded.  
"I'm sorry, Erik, I didn't mean..."  
"No need to apologize," he answered gently, "I beg your pardon for being so forward but... is there any hope that this is just morning sickness?" His voice was trembling and there was so much hope in his eyes.  
"I didn't want to tell you before the doctor confirmed it, but... yes, it is possible. But we have to wait at least one month more to be absolutely sure," she answered.

Erik's reaction was something she had never expected. He swept her up in his arms and danced around in their livingroom with her in his arms, laughing with joy. Then he gently put her down on her feet, she could tell he was breathless as he knelt down at her feet and pressed his right cheek against her stomach as if he was trying to listen to something the unborn child said. "Hello baby," he whispered, "Do you hear me? I'm you father, my precious, precious baby." His voice faltered as he wept, overwhelmed by the mixed feelings. This was the happiest moment in his life - and the bitterest at the same time for he knew his chances to see the baby were minimal. But it was his greatest victory. He felt like he had conquered all humanity and he had won - he had finally triumphed over all of them, even if he was to die, his child would live, his life was not wasted, at least a tiny part of himself would live on even after his death.

Christine didn't know why Erik was weeping profusely, but she understood he was weeping of happiness, as he clung to her, his masked face pressed against her stomach, trembling. She gently laid her hands on his sparse hair - now in the sunlight it seemed to be even more grey than ever - and gently stroked the back of his head, his neck and his shoulders.  
"O Christine," he mumbled, his voice muffled by the fabric of her dress, "I love you so much. This is the happiest moment in my life. I wish... I wish I could give you anything, but I have nothing."  
"You don't need to give me something," Christine answered gently, "There is no need to pay me. Erik, yesterday was wonderful. It was... the best concert I have ever given. You gave me your music."

"I wish you could accept what I wish to give you most," he answered sadly.  
"What would that be?" Christine was confused. What had he ever offered her that she could not accept?  
He looked up at her, his eyes pleading like a child's. "Myself."

It broke her heart. He was nothing but a forlorn child, begging her to give him a home. "O Erik," she sighed, "I am your wife, isn't that enough?"  
"My very pregnant wife," he grinned proudly and kissed her stomach through the fabric of his mask and her dress. Very pregnant - an odd phrase. How could she be "very" pregnant? But that was not enough for him, was it? He wanted to be accepted and loved like a child just for being there.  
"I accepted you the day I said yes at the altar," she answered seriously. What else could she do? Was there any other way to accept him than becoming his wife? She carried his child - there was nothing more she could do to tell him she accepted him.

"I do love you," he said, clearly waiting for a response.  
She hesitated. Should she tell him she loved him? After she had been sick at his sight? She suspected it wasn't morning sickness - she hadn't experienced morning sickness any other day - she knew it was disgust at the sight of his face? But then - this was not his fault. But she loved him, right now, her heart went out to him, as she saw him still kneeling at her feet, still holding onto her. She gave a sigh. She would have to say it. And he would somehow hear it if there was the slightest doubt in her voice or a lie. "I love you, Erik," she answered and bend down to kiss his forehead.

He crumbled under her hands, clinging to the fabric of her dress, crying uncontrollably. He couldn't help himself and only dimly noticed that he was lying on the floor, Christine sitting next to him, his head resting in her lap as she was softly singing to him, comforting him like a child.

When his sobs subsided, Christine asked gently if he felt better, if there was anything she could do for him.  
"Yes, there is one thing," he answered, "Love my child unconditionally."  
"Of course I will love OUR child!" Christine answered, especially emphasising the word "our".  
Erik wiped away his tears and sat up, his joints creaking. "Then there is nothing at all for me to wish for. I am perfectly happy."

"Maybe we could have a little celebration?" she asked, "Just going for a walk and maybe eating some chocolates?"  
"You can eat chocolates until you are sick," Erik promised happily.  
"Great. O, I think I'd like chocolates and crabs."  
"Chocolates and crabs?" Erik stared at her, "Really? Well... I guess I'd rather have vegetable soup, but I'd gladly..."  
"That was a joke, Erik."  
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	128. Chapter 128

**Madness and Hope**

Erik and Christine sat at a bench in the bois, watching couples in small boats rowing in the artificial pond, the noise of people talking, laughing and children playing around them. Erik had covered his face with a fawn mask, a hat and a scarf, if people didn't look carefully one could think he was just being cold. It was a challenge for both of them, because both knew very well that they were not save being in public.

Christine was halfway through her third box of chocolates and Erik wondered how a slim woman like her could eat so much chocolate on an empty stomach without being sick. They saw Raoul coming towards them. Christine was tempted to stand up and greet him, but she glanced at Erik and decided to pretend to be watching a child playing with a dog and not recognizing him. "You do not need to pretend not to see him," Erik said softly, "The Comte and I yesterday had a lengthy talk and called a truce." Then he got up himself and called out to Raoul: "Monsieur de Chagny, what a pleasure to meet you."

Raoul didn't need more invitation to approach them. He didn't show any aggression towards Erik, nothing but stiff politeness, but he greeted Christine warmly and kissed her hand. He couldn't kiss her cheek when her husband was standing beside her in public.

"You can congratulate us," Erik said proudly, "We are are expecting." Christine couldn't help grinning as Erik said "we" - of course HE couldn't be pregnant.  
Raoul congratulated Christine warmly, much more than she had ever hoped he would, asking her if they had decided on a godfather for their child. Before Christine could say anything, Erik answered: "It would be an honour if you would accept that duty."  
Christine rubbed her ears in surprise. Was this really happening? Erik was choosing Raoul?

Raoul stared at Erik, blinked, looked from Erik to Christine and again to Erik. Christine was smiling happily, a nearly empty chocolate box in her hand. He suspected she didn't know that her husband could drop dead any moment now, otherwise she would not be such a good mood. He knew that she did love Erik, in some twisted way, and would never be happy if he had just told her that he was dying.

"Christine, may I have a word with your husband, please?" Raoul asked and Christine wondered why he would want to talk to Erik, but she nodded and said she was going to buy another box of chocolates and some champagne.  
"No champagne," Erik said sternly, "My stomach forbids that and you mustn't endanger our child."  
She wondered when he had become that reasonable when she went to a nearby kiosk.

"You didn't tell her, did you?" Raoul said.  
Erik shook his head. "No. I want to enjoy this day."  
"Don't wait too long or it will be too late," the young man warned him, "And you don't want to die and leave Christine to suffer the regret the rest of her life that some things have been unsaid." When Erik didn't answer as Christine returned to them with another box of chocolates, he whispered: "Tell her tomorrow, or I tell her the day after tomorrow."

They couldn't say anything else as Christine reached them. She was happy to see Erik and Raoul having just a polite conversation, although Erik suddenly seemed very thoughtful.  
Raoul wished them a good day and left.

Erik and Christine sat down on the bench again, watching the boats on the artificial pond.  
"It was weird to see you and Raoul getting along," Christine said.  
"I told you, we have a truce," Erik answered and took one chocolate. "I guess I take the risk. At least we are celebrating now, aren't we? And tomorrow you will tell the managers that you won't sing. You must rest, take care of yourself and our child, not exhausting you."  
"But Erik..."  
"No," he replied, "We have to avoid anything that might endanger the baby. So you won't work. Stress is absolutely forbidden."  
"But... without my income, how...?"  
Erik looked at her and she saw his eyes soften. "We don't need the opera box if you do not sing. The only problem is the wage for the maid, but I already have an idea how to solve that problem. And please do not suggest that you do any housework, I will have none of it. Please, my dear, we can do this."

"How Erik? Even with your salary increase, I do not see how we could pay everything with just your salary."  
Erik stared at the artificial pond. "Did you know that it was custom at Mozart's time that wealthy men would pay a composer for handing over his composition so they could publish it in their own names?"  
Christine clasped her hands over her mouth. "Erik! You wouldn't!" she exclaimed horrified.

He gently took her hands in his. "Only three piano concerts. Three little piano concerts I never thought really good. But there is someone who pays 50.000 Franc for them, if I allow him to publish them under his name. 50.000 Franc is enough, I guess, even if I would not be working any more, to get by until the baby is born and maybe even a few month after that."  
"But they are... YOUR concerts!" Christine was about to cry.  
"My dear, all of my compositions are in seven large folders in my cupboard. Surely we can miss three of them which aren't really good?"  
"No, it's not this. Giving your compositions away to be published under another name is like... like... like you would prostitute yourself," she whispered.  
There was something in his amber eyes she could not quite understand. He brought her hands to his masked face, to where she knew his lips were. "My Christine," he breathed, "I've done worse than that in my life. There is no reason why I shouldn't accept that offer I got yesterday. I do it for you and for our baby. Please, my Christine, my love, my wife, please let me do this."  
She understood that he was scared she might lose this child too. He was ready to do the unthinkable - selling his music to be published under another name - to ensure she would have time to stay at home and rest and be cared for by their maid to minimize the risk of a miscarriage.  
"It is not illegal," he said, allowing an amused smile to show in his eyes, "Not even morally reprehensible."

"Erik, I love you," she whispered and leaned her head at his shoulder as they stared at the artificial pond and the beautiful landscape of the Bois de Bologne.  
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	129. Chapter 129

**Madness and Hope**

The next Monday Erik went to see the Daroga again. When he knocked at the door, the Persian opened and asked immediately with a weary sigh: "Erik, what have you done now?"  
"Nothing," Erik shot back angrily. Why did the Daroga always expect the worst? The Daroga rolled his eyes and stepped aside to let Erik come inside. Erik sat down uninvited and took off his hat.  
"What can I do for you today?" the Daroga asked, still Standing, towering over Erik, his arms folded before his breast. "Anything to confess? I'm not a priest, you know, if you want absolution you should ask someone else."  
Erik's answer was a shock to the Daroga: "Daroga, do you know how I can tell my wife that I am dying, but without upsetting her?"  
The Persian sank into a chair. "Erik, that... if that's a prank it is not funny!" he gasped.

"I wish it was," Erik replied, "But it is true. I wish it wasn't."  
"Why?" the Persian didn't understand. Erik looked as he always did, he showed no signs of weakness.  
Erik shrugged. "The illness is called cancer. It is not contagious or I would never have stayed close to Christine once I knew."  
"Never heard of that. What sort of illness is that?" the Persian asked.  
Erik shrugged and told matter of factly: "The cancer is growing inside me, eating me up alive, but it can't be surgically removed. There is no treatment for this. I can just wait for my death."

The Daroga placed his Hand on Erik's shoulder in sympathy. "I am so sorry."  
"Don't be. It's okay, I've accepted my fate and made peace. But now I need to know how I can tell my wife without upsetting her?"  
The Daroga scratched his beard and shrugged helplessly. He had no idea. Of course Christine would be upset to learn her husband was going to die soon.  
"My first idea was never to tell her until I just drop dead, but the Comte de Chagny talked me out of it," Erik replied, playing with his ring.

"WHO?" The Persian couldn't believe what Erik told him.  
"The Comte de Chagny. I asked him if he would marry her and raise our child when I am dead," Erik told sadly.  
"WHAT? Wait a moment - what child?" the Persian was sure he was just having a bad dream. Having Erik in his nightmare wasn't unusual. His worst nightmares revolved around Erik.

"She's pregnant," Erik answered, "The baby is due in March, I guess. And my only wish is that I live to see it."  
The sad and resigned tone in Erik's voice told the Daroga that the masked man was telling the truth. The Persian gulped and tried to find some words. "Do you know when...? Has Dr. Raynard told you, how long...?"

Erik looked at his friend's hand that still rested on his shoulder. He did nothing to push it away. Erik's amber eyes gazed into the Persians jade eyes, then Erik smiled and chuckled warmly. "Last Easter," he answered, "According to Dr. Raynard I am already dead."  
"LAST Easter? But Erik... since when do you know...?"  
"Last Christmas. I had these pangs of pain in the stomach, they would come and go, come and go, and my agility and my stamina were slowly deteriorating. I went to see the doctor and he felt... he felt the hard ball where nothing hard should be. He told me I would die around Easter, June at the latest," Erik spread his hands and smiled: "I am LITERALLY a living corpse now. I don't just look like one."

"How can you laugh at this?" the Persian asked, appalled.  
"How can I not laugh? Daroga, I am just dying. Dying is easy, it does not take much skill to do it, everyone can. Staying alive is the challenge. And now that I am dying, why should I spend my last days with sadness?" It was weird to hear Erik talk like that, as if he was somewhat relieved to know for sure that he was going to be dead soon.

"Then why did you father a child?" the Daroga asked, "If you knew you would die soon, why father a child?"  
"I was lying to myself, I thought maybe I had some other illness, something that wouldn't kill me. And... well, I wanted a child, I know it is horribly selfish, but I do not want to leave nothing behind," Erik confessed, "My music will never be published, my palace in Persia is doomed - the Shah demanded so many 'amusing additions' that the structure is not perfect. I am well aware that without proper care it will crumble withing 150 to 180 years. Just statics and math. And the Shah never was one to give anything proper care. The opera house - it is not MY opera house but Garnier's and he deserves every credit for it. I just wanted... needed... something to live on after my death. My name will be forgotten, the Comte de Chagny will see to that, but I... I don't want to go without leaving something pure, something perfect..." He took a deep, shuddering breath. "I didn't want to die and be forgotten, erased, a wasted existence without any purpose..."

"Erik..." the Persian breathed helplessly in the face of Erik's despair. Then, on a sudden idea, he sat next to Erik on the couch and pulled the wiry man into his embrace, holding him tightly.  
"I know it is too much to ask, but... will you be at my side in the... month... weeks... days to come?" Erik asked, no longer able to hold back his tears as he allowed himself to lean his masked face against his friend's shoulder.  
"I've always been there for you my friend."

"There is nothing I can give back, I can only say thank you," Erik mumbled.  
"No need for that. No one can take away the memories we share," the Persian said, "Do you remember the day we sat at the crystal clear streamlet in the Elburs mountains?"  
"Yes," Erik whispered and dried his tears, "Do you remember... that performance I staged at your wedding with your fourth wife? It was the best performance in my life."

The Daroga sat back a bit so he could see Erik's eyes. "I will never forget the day when you called me brother."  
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 _Next chapter will be up at Monday, then at 8th December no update for that is a holiday in Austria, but Wednesday I will continue with my updates._


	130. Chapter 130

**Madness and Hope**

Erik came home late, but Christine didn't wonder. Sometimes he had to work longer, that wasn't unusual. She had been at the doctor's who had confirmed that she was most likely pregnant and the child would be born in March. She had written a letter to the managers that due to her pregnancy she would be unable to sing in the next month. The managers would not be happy but there was nothing they could do about it.

When Erik came home, she got up from the couch and put aside the book she had been reading to greet him. He smiled as he kissed her hand, then bend his knee so he could kiss her stomach. "Good evening to you two," he said cheerfully as he got up again. He took a deep breath, then asked Christine to sit down, he had to tell her something and hoped it would not upset her too much. Christine sat down, terrified he would confess another crime. Was this ever going to end? Would she have to worry each day what he was up to?

"Christine, when we got married, you knew I was older than you," he started and she nodded, unsure what he was about to say. "We always knew I would leave you a widow eventually." Christine gulped. This was definitely worse than hearing that he had committed a crime. Something was terribly wrong. Erik shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other, twisting his ring in his hands. "Well, I know you are going to marry the Comte de Chagny soon after my death. I... I just wanted to wish you good luck..." He ran a hand through his sparse hair that was now mostly grey. "God, I am really no good to break something gently."

"Erik, what are you talking about?" Christine asked horrified.  
Erik shrugged as if he was talking about something that didn't matter to him. "I thought it was better you concentrate on something happy than on the bad news."  
"Are you trying to tell me that you are DYING?" she asked, not wanting to believe what she heard.  
"Unfortunately yes. Don't worry, it's not contagious, it will affect only me..."  
"ERIK! You CAN'T die now!" she yelled, got to her feet and hit his breast with her fists, "You CAN'T die on us now! You can't! It is not fair!"  
"I'm sorry, but... I do not think death will ask your permission to take me away."  
"It is not fair! Just now, when I am falling in love with you... when I am contend to be your wife... you can't just die now!"  
"My Christine..." Erik embraced her somewhat helplessly. "Do you think I would die if there was anything I could do against it? I have consulted five doctors so far, and all of them agreed in their diagnosis. I am going to die and there is nothing I can do."

Christine understood what that meant. Erik absolutely hated to go to a doctor, to undress and let the doctor examine him. He must have tried everything before he accepted that there was no treatment, no cure.

"How much time do we have left?" Christine asked resigned.  
A low chuckle from Erik made her shiver. "Well... according to the doctor's first theory I died last Easter. His second guess was last June. Now we have end of August and his guess is Christmas. I am determined to prove him wrong again and survive Christmas and New Year's day."

"Our child..." she whispered, "it will be March..."  
"Yes, it will be March," Erik replied, "And I will do my best to be there. And if I have to apply for a leave from hell."  
"That is not funny!" she exclaimed, but she could not help laughing bitterly.

He took one of her hands and placed it on his stomach, below the left ribcage, and applied some pressure. She could feel something hard inside him. "That is cancer. It is currently eating up my pancreas." He placed his hand on her stomach and said: "You are carrying life in your belly, I carry death."

"It is so unfair!" Christine wept.  
"No, my darling, please, don't cry. I am the happiest man in the world. It is okay with me. You see, I have had more than anyone else in his life. Right now I think all that happened in my life just happened to get me to really appreciate what I had with you, a normal life, as normal as it gets. Right now I think it is better as it is now. Right now I have time to make peace. Someone who is dying suddenly never gets that chance. I am happy. Really. And you get to marry the man you REALLY love. He told me he would help you raise the child, you won't be alone, you..."  
"WHAT? You talked to Raoul about this, before you came to me?" she asked angrily.

"I needed to know that I wouldn't leave you alone," Erik said and gently pulled her into his embrace again.  
"I do not want you to die! Erik, I LOVE you! Do you hear me? I LOVE YOU!" she cried.  
"O Christine... I know, my dear, I know. Cry all you like now. And then we are going to have dinner in an excellent restaurant. I will not spend my last months in sadness, I will enjoy every moment."

Christine looked up at him, she could see his head slightly cocked, he was looking at her with his eyes dry and - smiling. His eyes showed nothing but a contend smile. Could it be that he had really accepted his fate without sadness or bitterness?

"I will continue to work," he said, "The longer I can keep up a normal life, the better. I lost much of my stamina and agility the last months but... Dr. Raynard said I am still stronger than many men my age. He said he had never heard of anyone to survive that kind of cancer that long. He's now trying to find out why I am still alive - maybe that will help him to find a way to prolong the life of other people. If I can save - or rather prolong - just one life, it is worth it. And now, no more of that. I want to be happy, I want to enjoy a nice evening with you and I have to tell you just how well I like my new position as the assistant of the head of the authority."  
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 _Due to the holiday no update tomorrow - but Wednesday I will update._


	131. Chapter 131

**Madness and Hope**

September came and Christine noticed Erik change. He really seemed to be at peace with himself. No temper tantrums, no weird behaviour, no scenes, he was calm and there even was some sort of happiness. Erik actually cared for himself well, made sure he would eat five smaller meals of an easily digestible diet each day and they went to bed early. Christine's daily routine changed much now that she had no other duty than taking care of herself. The maid, an elder woman who had children of her own, even grandchildren, was of much help in that, and Christine was happy to see Raoul each day now.

One evening they went for a walk and Christine noticed that Erik walked somewhat stiff and slightly hunched over. "What is it?" she asked worriedly, "Are you in pain again?"  
"It's nothing," he replied, "It'll go away soon. Its just - it is cold. Coldness causes these pains, last summer I had nearly nothing, and now... We better go home. I just need a cup of tea."  
When they got home, Erik sat down on the couch, both hands pressed against his stomach. Worriedly Christine offered to make some tea for him. When she returned from the kitchen with a cup of the for him, he was smiling.  
"Thank you, my dear," he said, "Don't worry, it's already over." It was a relief not to have to pretend to feel nothing when he actually was in pain. But he had to admit that the pain wasn't as bad as he had pretended it to be - he just liked being cared for. A completely new sensation for him, to have her caring for him. He rather liked it and took a mental note not to take advantage of her gentle heart.

"And you really can work?" Christine asked, "If you are so ill you are going to die soon, how are you still able to work?"  
Erik shrugged and sipped his tea. Christine clearly had no talent for cooking, not even tea, but of course he wouldn't point that out to her. "It is not that cold in the catacombs," he replied.  
"Catacombs? Erik, are you still working on the plans of the catacombs?" Christine asked. She had to sit down or she would have fainted. Erik was ill, suffering a deadly disease that should have already killed him and was working alone in the catacombs for hours each day - she didn't want to think what might have happened to him! He could have fainted and no one would ever find him, he could have died down there, alone in the darkness, with no one to help him.

"Yes, of course. Why would I refuse to do that?" he asked surprised.  
"Why? You could have died!" she hissed.  
To her annoyance he just shrugged, as he answered with slight amusement: "Of course. Everyone can be dead every second of the day - if you are at the wrong place at the wrong time, everything can happen. I fail to see the problem?"  
"If I was to run around in the catacombs alone - what would you do?" Christine asked, trying a different approach.  
"Going mad with fear. And of course searching for you with bloodhounds," Erik answered seriously. Christine considered this for a moment. Of course, the hounds would find her trace where he couldn't. It was a typical answer from Erik - weird, but somehow logical. Obviously he had already planned for something like that. She decided not to ask where he would get well-trained bloodhounds.  
"But you expect me to be fine with it?" she rebuked him.

Erik just shrugged. He didn't understand why she was upset. The catacombs were far saver than the streets, at least for him.

"Erik, please, you are ill, you shouldn't..."  
"Christine, I am not yet dead. As long as I am able to stand on my own feet I will do so," Erik replied, "If I just lie down and allow myself to deteriorate I will die sooner. No, as long as I am able to work I will do so."  
"Sitting in an office is one thing, but the catacombs... Erik, have you ever thought of what might happen if you just break down in pain?" she asked worriedly.  
Erik nodded. "Of course. In the catacombs I lie there until I get better, get up, shrug it off and go on. If I would collapse in the office, someone might see me and take advantage of my weakness."

Christine was about to say something, but then she noticed the grammar Erik had used. First he had used indicative, then conjunctive. "Erik!" she cried out - had he actually needed to lie down in the catacombs?

"Christine, don't get upset, you mustn't frighten our child," Erik gently rebuked her.

"But Erik, we only have so little time together left. I don't want to risk losing you earlier! I don't want to lose you at all!" she cried out.

"My dear Christine, I promise I will be very careful," Erik answered, "When I notice that my strength fails me in a way that I cannot go on exploring the catacombs without endangering myself I will tell my superior that I am ill and need another task that does not involve physical strength and agility." Christine did not believe one word he said. She knew him too well by now - he would never ever admit any weakness, he'd rather die a horrible death, alone in the cold, dark catacombs deep under Paris where no one would ever find him.

Not having to work due to her pregnancy had some extra benefits such as being able to go anywhere whenever she wanted to. And she was determined to help Erik - if he wanted this or not. She would not sit at home, waiting if he returned or not. She would protect him from his own recklessness. It wasn't difficult to go to the building authority and speak with someone there. But getting to talk to the head of the authority himself was not easy. At first secretaries and some officials told her that he had no time and certainly would not have time to talk to anyone who just stopped by.

"But I need to talk to him, it is really important," she begged and again was turned down, "Please, it is a matter of live and death!"  
They laughed at her and told her to speak to her husband or father, important matters were best done by men.  
"This is about my husband," she said, "and I really need to talk to the head of the authority himself." Now they asked who she was and when they heard the name "Davisseau" and remembered her saying "matter of life and death" and so finally she was allowed to go to his office. She had to wait about two hours until he was ready to talk to her.

The short man was worried when he saw her. He could only assume something bad had happened, something so bad, she couldn't just leave a note and tell them that her husband was ill and needed a day off. When Erique Davisseau was concerned, everything was possible, so he didn't dare send her away.

"Thank you very much for granting me this meeting, Monsieur," she said. He invited her in and send the office boy to get them tea. He would never offer liquors to a woman. When they sat in his office, Christine started: "My husband does not know that I am here. He would be very angry if he ever found out, but I have to do this. Erik is seriously ill and I am so worried to see him disappearing into the catacombs each day and come back after ten or more hours."  
"He's ill? He didn't tell me."  
"Of course not. He never tells anyone when he is in pain, he kept it secret from me for about eight month, but he..." she couldn't hold back her tears, so she took her handkerchief from her bag and blew her nose.  
The short man knew for sure this was serious and seeing the beautiful young woman cry moved him deeply and made him want to help her. He felt the need to comfort her. "If I can help you, I will," he answered gently.

"Thank you so much, Monsieur! Please, Erik needs a job where he's not alone and certainly not in coldness," she answered, "But please don't dismiss him, he so much loves to work."  
That was unexpected. He had never been under the impression that Davisseau liked his job. It was a job and a reliable income, but whenever he saw him, Erique was in his usual bad mood and seemed to be rather annoyed. "If you tell me which illness it is, I see to it that he gets a task he can do despite his illness. It is not something contagious, is it? If it was, I would have to find something he could do without interacting with others."  
Christine was close to embracing and kissing him in her gratitude. "Thank you! I do not know how I can ever thank you, Monsieur. Erik suffers from cancer. The doctor said most likely he will be dead before Christmas."

If he hadn't been sitting he would have fallen to the floor now. It was a shock to learn that Erique Davisseau was not only ill but he was dying and had only few month to live. It took a few minutes to recover from that shock, then he got himself a brandy, drank it, and got another one. Only then did he sit down again and faced Christine. "I'm so sorry," he said, "If there is anything I can do..."  
"Just give Erik a task he can do without risking his life," Christine begged.  
"Yes, of course. His report is due tomorrow, I will assign him another task then. Madame... please, I don't know what to say... I am deeply sorry."  
"Thank you, Monsieur," Christine answered, "Please don't tell my husband that I have been here. He would be angry with me."

The next day Erik was in exceptional good mood. He had discovered a very interesting fact about the catacombs and his plan of that particular section was complete. Writing his report had been fun, he had used a writing style like an adventure novel and was sure they would have some fun reading it. If they could read his handwriting, that is. Otherwise they would have much fun in the guessing-game "what could he mean with that?".

To his great surprise his superior was already waiting for him, a teapot and two cups on his desk. Erik didn't know what to make of it. Was something wrong? He hadn't done anything wrong, this time he was sure of it, for what could he possibly do wrong crawling around in the catacombs? Okay, he had kept a few things he had found down there, but surely this was no crime, for no one would ever miss them. The short man offered him a seat and he sat down, a bit worried where this might lead to. It was no normal situation for a report.

Erik cleared his throat and placed the papers on the desk. "I have finished that section, and made some interesting discoveries, if you care to have a look?" he started uneasily.  
The short man didn't even look at the papers. "Just give me the summary."  
Erik placed six coins on the desk, grinning. This was fun. His superior took one of them and studied it for a while, then took another one, finally he said: "These are Roman coins, here you can see the name of their emperor. Where did you get them? And what has this to do with the catacombs?"  
"Actually I found them there. You see, the catacombs have several levels. And in the deepest level is an ancient stone-quarry. I found one way down there. I would love to show you, but the whole is rather narrow, so maybe... well, it was so narrow, I barely managed to squeeze through. Down there I found four Roman coins and one ancient chisel." He showed three chisels and placed two of them on the desk, taking away the most beautiful coin and one chisel.  
"Four coins and one chisel?" the short man asked, raising his eyebrows.  
"There might me more down there," Erik said and put the coin and the chisel in his pocket. He knew he was taking a risk - showing what he had found and then taking it back to keep part of it for himself. But if his superior wanted him to hand over all six coins he would have to tell him. Or, of course, he could take one coin and one chisel for himself. Erik wondered if his superior would give in to temptation.

"Four coins and one chisel? I could have sworn it was six coins and three chisels. But I guess you use slight of hand tricks to fool me, do you?"  
"Precisely."  
The short man laughed. It was not lost on Erik that the short man didn't correct the numbers in his report but placed one coin and one chisel in his drawer. "That's my hellhound! Sometimes I wonder if I should strangle you or give you praise." He became serious again as he said: "My praise is what you deserve, your work in the catacombs has been really good and the plans will help others to further explore..."  
"What? Others? I've done only a small part, not even ten percent, you can't..." Erik objected. He didn't understand why this task was taken away from him when he was the best man for this.

"You are my assistant, or have you forgotten? Well, I need you here."  
"Here? In the office? But... I like the catacombs," Erik objected, "And I am no good here, everyone hates me, I am no sociable man, I..."  
"That is exactly why I need you here," the short man replied, "You see, there is a certain laziness spreading like an illness in this office. I have to crack the whip, if you understand..."  
Erik's face was blank as he considered this. Then suddenly his face lit up and he grinned happily: "And I am to BE the whip!"

"No offense..." the head of the authority smiled widely, "I guess being my vicious dog is a good job for you. You see, I plan to play good cop, bad cop with them, and I as the head of the authority am unfortunately bound to be the good cop. I need someone who can play the bad cop so well that even I look good."  
"It is easy to look good when compared to ME," Erik growled, but then added: "At your service."

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 _So... just for the facts: It is true that there are mines and that ancient Romans used the limestone. Roman living quarters are included in the catacombs. There are maps from 1858 to 1908 from explorations of the catacombs by officials. You can easily picture Erik doing one of these plans, can't you?_

 _: / / e n . wikipedia wiki / Catacombs _ of _ Paris (please take out the blanks to use the link)_


	132. Chapter 132

**Madness and Hope**

Unfortunately for Christine it didn't take long until Erik learned from one of the office boys that his wife had been there and insisted to talk to his superior. It wasn't hard to guess what they might have been talking about and he was furious - how dare she interfere in his life like this? How dare she go to his superior behind his back and ask for another job for him? How dare she interfere in his career, in his life, short as it may be now, it was his life and no one but himself had any right to control it.

Christine was sitting on the couch, trying to knit a blanket for her baby. She had bought green wool and knitting needles and was now trying to knit. It wasn't easy and she had the wool hopelessly tangled. She would have to dispose of this ball of wool. Her maid had shown her how to knit, but somehow she always did something wrong.

Suddenly the door slammed shut with a crash. Erik was standing in the door, his face uncovered, his eyes blazing with fury. Christine dropped her knitting needles in shock.  
"How dare you, woman?" Erik roared, grabbed her arms and pulled her to her feet roughly, "How dare you interfere in my career? How dare you go to my boss behind my back? What have you done to get him to comply?"  
"The baby, think of the baby!" Christine cried and Erik immediately let go of her and backed away until his back slammed into the wall.  
He took his neatly folded mask out of his pocket and put it on. Then he approached her cautiously. "I'm so sorry. How do you feel, my dear, are you hurt? How's the baby?"  
Christine sat down again, trying to breath calmly, and when she felt her heartbeat slow down to a normal rate, she nodded. Erik was on his knees at her feet by then, silently weeping, staring at her stomach, panicked she might lose the child. "Erik, I do not believe that a child is so easily lost."

Erik took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a moment to regain his composure. "Are you absolutely sure? I'd rather call Doctor Raynard..."  
Christine laughed: "Erik, I am absolutely sure. I don't need a doctor, you did not hurt me, I was just afraid you would in your rage."  
Erik got up from his kneeling position on the floor and lied down on the couch on his back, his head in her lap, his left ear leaning against her stomach. His legs were dangling down beside the couch for it was a bit too short for him. Christine wasn't sure what he wanted to do now and looked down at his masked face and his amber eyes which looked up to her blue eyes.

"Hello baby," Erik said, addressing the unborn baby but still studying Christine's face thoroughly, "Please tell your mother that she acted immaturely. She should not have spoken to my boss behind my back."  
Christine decided to play along as she answered: "Please tell your father that I am worried about him. I don't want to lose him, we have only such a short time left, I don't want to miss one day with him." She saw his eyes soften.  
"Tell your mother that I appreciate her care - but not how she turned to be a scheming little minx! She didn't think this through, telling my boss about my illness would give him the excuse to dismiss me as unfit for duty," he answered, "If it was her idea to get me to spend more time with her at home, she could have asked me."  
Christine wondered what he hoped to gain by this strange dialogue and played along to find it out. "Maybe you tell your father that he is a stubborn bullhead and refused to stop endangering himself every day somewhere in the catacombs."

"My dear baby, please tell your mother that she is my beloved wife but this does not give her the right to determine my future behind my back and against my own will," Erik answered, a slight scorn in his voice, then a highly amused smile crept into his eyes as he went on: "At least she just dropped a false tear and not a chandelier..."  
Christine's jaw dropped and she forgot to breathe for a moment. Had he just really said that? Had he just compared her attempt to help him and care for him because she loved him with his blackmail and murder?  
"You see, my dear child, adults tend to do the most stupid things when they are in love and just want the best for the beloved ones," Erik went on, turned his head slightly to kiss her stomach through the fabric of his mask and her dress.  
Christine couldn't be angry with him now. She simply could not, not now, when she could see so much love in his eyes, so much happiness. Erik sat up to face her, but he still spoke to the child: "Even a good girl like your mother can be a scheming minx when she wants to protect someone she loves. I guess she would even kill to keep you safe, and I love her even more for this."

Christine reached out to him, pulled him closer to her and kissed his masked cheek. But kissing through the mask wasn't what she wanted - needed - now, she snatched the mask away and kissed him on the lips, but she did not open her eyes for if she saw his ruined face the wonderful moment would be destroyed. Erik sat stock still at first, then he gently took her in his embrace without breaking their kiss. He was overwhelmed with the sensation of her kissing him, not only enduring his touch or dutifully kissing him when he demanded it, but kissing him just because she actually WANTED to do so. She felt his tears as she broke their contact, but kept her eyes shut, handing him his mask. He took it from her hand gently and put it on.

"You can open your eyes, my beauty, the beast has already covered himself," he said gently.  
"You are no beast," Christine replied, but she saw that he looked happy, not at all sad or ashamed.  
"If you say so, my beauty," he teased gently, then picked up the hopelessly tangled ball of wool and the knitting needles. "And what is that supposed to be?" he asked.

"I wanted to knit a blanket for our baby," Christine answered, blushing, "The maid showed me how to knit, but... I keep losing stitches and getting it all wrong."  
Erik shook his head in amusement, then pulled out the needles. "I just throw this ball of wool away. It looks like a gang of kittens played with it. Surely you have bought more wool?"  
Christine nodded and pointed to a basket which was sitting under the piano. Erik's eyes went wide, then he roared in laughter. "O my. And just how many blankets do you intend to knit? Or do you think our baby will be grown up before you ever finish?"

"I know I am a complete failure as a housewife," Christine answered, ashamed and a bit angry for he laughed at her flaws.

"That's why we have a maid," Erik answered seriously, "But like cooking - you just need a teacher and some practice."  
"Cooking? O yes, now I can cook scrambled eggs, vegetable soup and sausages. What a great cook I am now."  
"You want me to teach you chicken soup?" Erik asked happily and Christine nodded.

When they sat at the kitchen table, eating their soup, Christine suddenly exclaimed: "It is so unfair!"  
"What is unfair?" Erik asked, not really understanding what had caused this sudden change of topic from baby blankets to something unfair.  
"That you are ill. It is not fair that you should be taken from us now, it's just... not fair!" She was at the verge of tears.

Erik leaned back in his chair. "My dear, life is never fair. But you mustn't be sad, I'm just going to die - that is not that bad. You see," he gently took her hand in his, as he went on: "The time with you was the best time of my life. It even surpassed my wildest dreams, it surpassed everything I ever dared to hope for. There were times when I was too blind to see the blessing I had... the times when I wanted to strangle you... but now I feel like my blindness had been taken away and I see my life crystal clear. My life was never that bad, never wasted... all I had to endure had a purpose, I just failed to see it - the sole purpose to prepare me for this." He gestured with one hand, still holding her hand in the other hand.

"This?" Christine sobbed, "What this, your death?"  
"My dearest, silly Christine - not my death. My life with you. Do you really think I would have appreciated my life with you if I had lead an ordinary life from the beginning? I had my fill of everything, every joy and every pain a human life can provide. I wish I could say that I regret nothing, but at least I have time to regret, and this is a blessing in itself." He brought her hand to his lips and kissed her fingers.

Christine stared at Erik. Never had she expected him to say something like that, and certainly never in such a contended voice. He was absolutely serious, and suddenly she understood that he was making peace.

"But I want you to raise your child," Christine said, still weeping.  
Erik smiled sadly. "My dearest, precious wife, you really think that would be good? How long before I do something utterly stupid again? You really think someone like ME would be able to raise a child? No, you and our baby are better off with me out of the way and you becoming the Countess de Chagny. I just wish I would be alive in March when it will be born. I want to see it, you know, for I am sure it will be the most beautiful baby in the world."

"Erik, I love you," was all she could say.  
"Yes, I know my dear. And I love you - you two," he let go of her hand and took his spoon, "Let's eat this before it is too cold." As an afterthought he added with an amused smile: "I'm sure I won't miss changing nappies or staying awake all night hearing a baby cry - if it has my voice it is guaranteed to wake people even three blocks away." He smiled at her happily as he noticed that she was laughing despite the tears that still ran down her cheeks.  
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 _Thank you for reading and please review! I hope you keep following for I have some more chapters in store!_


	133. Chapter 133

**Madness and Hope**

Erik and Christine settled in a new routine. Since Erik forbid her any work - and she complied, because she didn't want to do anything that would endanger the unborn baby that made itself known in her slowly growing stomach. Erik had bought her woolen maternity dresses, a pink one, a blue one, a burgundry one and a fir green one. They all were wide cut so she could wear them even in the ninth month. When she complained that she looked fat, he insisted that their baby should be comfortable and have enough space.

"But I feel ugly," Christine complained.  
"If YOU are ugly, what am I?" Erik replied, trying to sound amused when he was badly hurt. He didn't want to be angry with her or make her angry, his time was running short and he didn't want to waste it with useless anger.

The new task Erik had been given turned out to be perfect for him. He loved to sneak up to the other officials and surprise them when they were not working. He himself was surprised how many tricks they used. He hadn't been the only one to decorate his office with false files to make him look overworked. Some others just hid files in the cupboard instead of finishing them and when he searched their offices early one morning the found too many bottles of brandy and wine to be comfortable with. He carefully noted every misdeed of his colleagues in a small notebook, excited that he was now acting much like the Daroga would. He would have to tell his friend when he stopped by for tea. That had become one of their customs, the Daroga would come for tea each day to see if they needed his help.

And now Erik had the task of spying on the other officials and finding out what they did all day long. Most of them were actually working and there was no problem. But some didn't, he even walked in on one who was having a visit from his mistress in his office, allowing Erik to create a really awkward situation for Erik just used his really strong voice to cry out: "O, I am SO sorry, I didn't know you had a visit from your WIFE!" so almost everyone in the building would hear. Some of them came to see what was going on and this time it was not Erik they were mocking but the man and his mistress.

His next coup was to invite all of them to a meeting in the large conference room where he had build up a pyramid of the bottles he had confiscated. Each bottle had a small tag on it with the name of it's owner. "I didn't want to steal it, but as an official, I had to count them and make a statistic," Erik explained cheerfully. Of course he had not taken the bottles from his superior, he would never do that, but he so loved to shame to others.

It didn't take long and everyone started to come to work as soon as possible for no one wanted Erik to play any pranks on them when he was alone in the building every morning. But it worked - the more he amused himself, the more the others had to work to avoid being the victim of one of his pranks. But he had to change his tactics now. He started placing notices in files before they were given to the officials, saying they should go to the assistant of the head of the authority immediately and show this note. Every note had a file number and Erik had a list of all the notes he had hidden somewhere in files with the exact date and time when he had hidden them. He wondered how long it would take to get all the hidden notes back, but he was sure he would not live to see the day the last one was brought in. Therefor he kept his lists very carefully so his successor would easily pick up where he left.

The head of the authority insisted that Erik would be treated with much respect and even threatened to take disciplinary measures against everyone who would insult him. Any offence to Erik would be considered insubordination and accordingly punished, giving Erik much freedom and relief from the mockery and taunting. Of course they still did talk behind his back, they still made jokes, but they tried to make sure he wouldn't overhear. Little did they know that Erik had come to use a strategy he had used at the opera since he could not be everywhere at the same time. At the opera it was the seamstesses. They knew everything for when they took measures to adjust the costumes the singers and dancers would talk to them almost about everything. Erik had often wondered why people tended to talk to seamstesses when they were touching their almost naked bodies. And the seamstesses talked in their workshop. Half an hour in the costume department was more informative than three days in the manager's office. And in the building authority it was the cleaners and the office boys. They had access to everything, they were almost every time overlooked and often treated with open disgust and contempt, so they had little reason to be loyal. So when Erik started to treat them with respect, even giving them small gifts like a few chocolates or a bottle of cheap wine, they started to talk to him. He was surprised how much information he got that way. If he had known all along he would have used that trick much sooner.

Christine used the free time every morning to meet Raoul in the little cafe. Raoul was worried about her and to her surprise even about the child. The Comte did not know what he was really feeling about the child - it wasn't his, it was the child of his worst enemy, but the child was Christine's too and he would have to accept it if he wanted to marry her. He secretly hoped to give the child in a nursemaid's care so he would not have much to do with it. This was custom in aristocracy so no one would blame him. He had been raised by a nursemaid and didn't think that was bad for any child, he would provide anything the child would need - a room to live in, food, a nursemaid and private teachers. No one could ever ask more of him and he secretly hoped Christine and he would have many children of their own.

It was November when Erik finally noticed that he could not keep up his work like before. He didn't last so many hours a day, he would still be able to work, but not full-time. It was not easy to accept that but finally Dr. Raynard told him he had to decide whether he wanted to take painkillers to enable him to work full-time or work only few hours a day, preferably at home, and prolong his life. It was only a matter of few weeks according to the doctor, but Erik refused the painkillers. He would not take morphine, he would not take laudanum and he would not take the cocaine pills that would combat fatigue and enable him to continue to work. All painkillers would shorten his life for sure. It was not an easy decision. It was the final admission that he really would die soon.

It was not easy to go to his superior and ask for a part-time job. It was not so much about the money he would earn - he had seen to it that they would survive at least until April even if he had no income at all - it was more about his need to keep up a normal life. He was convinced that if he would give up now and just lie down, it would kill him. If he kept going on as if nothing had happened he would survive - at least a little longer. His superior reacted very sympathetic and friendly. He offered him another task - failure control. Erik could work at home, an office boy would bring him some files and he would doublecheck if there were any faults or if everything was okay. Working at home would allow him to earn more for if he could take a break whenever he needed he would be able to work more hours. And if he couldn't, well, then nothing would happen for the next evaluation of his work would be next summer. Erik knew this was nothing but charity but right now he had to swallow his pride and accept. Pride was not very high on his list of priorities now.

"Please, come with me," the short man said friendly as he noticed that Erik was fighting back tears. Erik followed him and they walked through a few streets.  
"Look! The Grim Reaper!" some passer-by laughed as he saw Erik. Erik shook his head sadly. He was too weary to be angry, he would not waste his time on idiots any more.  
"Looks like he's famine-stricken," a woman whispered a bit too loud to her husband, who replied that the other one looked like he was the cause of the famine.

This was not funny, at least not for Erik, he turned to his superior and apologized: "I'm sorry. This happens to me all the time. I can't help it." The short man just grunted. He knew mockery because of his weight more than enough.

They reached a nice multi-family house. Despite the coldness there were children playing in the garden, their parents were not to be seen. "These are my grandchildren," he short man explained, "My eldest son has seven, the next one three and my daughter has five, four of them twins. I have more children and more grandchildren, but these I wouldn't have if..." He trailed off and spread his hands.  
Erik stood there and silently watched the children play.  
"They all would never have been born if you hadn't risked your life to save my children," the short man went on, his voice warm and friendly, "I thought you have a right to know that."  
Both men stood there a while, watching the children play, before Erik turned away. "Thank you," he said softly, "You have no idea what this means to me."

When they went back to the building authority, Erik had to stop and lean against a wall for a moment when the pain hit him. "Nothing... it is nothing... just a moment..." he hissed through clenched teeth, "Just the coldness..."  
"I'll buy you a drink," the short man offered, "Something hot to warm you up." He feared the skeletally thin man next to him might fall down and die right then and there.

They sat in a nice cafe. Erik refused anything but tea while the other man had tea with rum and a piece of cake.  
"Thank you," Erik said, as the pain subsided, "I do feel better now."  
"You're welcome."  
"May I ask for a favour?" Erik asked.  
"Of course." Who would deny a dying man?  
"Come to my funeral party."  
"Yes, of course," the short man answered, it was not much Erik had asked.

"No, you don't understand," Erik answered chuckling, "The funeral party will be first of December, but I will not be dead then. I want to be present at my own funeral party, I want to hear the funeral speech, I want to... Well, I just want to be there and witness everything, I want to give my own funeral speech. And I do not want to see anyone wear black. No black. Every guest has to give a small funeral speech. De mortuis nil nisi bene. Will you come? I have so very few people I want to say goodby, one more would really be good."  
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 _Erik has not lost his black humor._


	134. Chapter 134

**Madness and Hope**

Working at home turned out to be a trial for Erik. He could not concentrate when Christine and the maid were constantly chatting about everything and nothing, mainly clothes for a baby, a cradle, blankets, powder and how to warm milk in a bottle. Of course he liked that Christine was happy becoming a mother, that she asked thousands of questions and the maid eagerly answered, she had enough children to know many things. It was good to see Christine adjusting to her role as a mother - but couldn't they do this without him? He knew for sure he would be dead by the the time his child would learn how to walk, speak its first word or learn to use a chamber pot. Why did Christine insist asking his opinion? He'd rather concentrate on his work.

Well, his work. It was more or less charity from the chief, he knew that, but he was glad he still had a job. Working through completed files looking for mistakes, that was not a very satisfying task, but he really found a few mistakes, like one file wasn't even completed - why had no one noticed that? - or one had a "request rejected" when the request was legal and should have been granted. But the nice thing was, he could work a few hours, then lie on the bed with Christine, his hand on her round belly, and rest for an hour, work a bit, rest a bit - and he could control that Christine didn't overexercise herself and got enough time lying down, resting.

But the constant control made Christine irritable. She snapped at Erik that she was pregnant, not ill. He got very quiet, then answered icily: "Forgive me, my dear, I forgot that I am the one who's dying here!" went to his room and slammed the door shut. Christine felt horrible. He was right, he was dying and the doctor had said his chances to survive until Christmas were minimal - but it was already November! He could die any moment now, maybe his funeral party would really be his funeral and he would be dead by then. She could not understand why he wanted a funeral party while he was still alive. It was one of his macabre ideas she absolutely disliked but she would not object, she could not, not when she understood that it was his way of telling the few people he liked good-by. He needed to say good-by and that was something she understood.

She knocked on his door. "May I come in?" she asked.  
"Can't one even die alone here without having his wife telling him what he's doing wrong?" Erik retorted angrily - and loud enough to convince Christine that he was strong enough not to die now.  
"Erik, don't be stubborn. I wanted to apologize," she called out, making her voice as melodious as possible.  
Erik opened the door, he leaned lazily against the doorframe, as he looked down at her. "What a nice change to have you apologizing to me for once," he said, but his tone wasn't angry or cynical but lovingly. He reached out to touch her round belly. Christine tensed. This was something else she didn't understand. Erik was obsessed with touching her stomach, as if this would tell him something about the baby. He always hoped the baby would kick and he would feel it. He could sit or lie next to her, his hands on her stomach, for hours and wait for the baby to make itself known and move. Sometimes she thought this nice but right now it was rather unwanted.

"I do not want to quarrel, Erik," she said, "And I do apologize. I... O please, can you keep your hands off of my stomach for two minutes!"  
Erik grinned sheepishly and clasped his hands behind his back.  
"Erik, I am sorry. We need to find some routine where we do not constantly annoy each other. Maybe... maybe you can work in the kitchen while the maid is cleaning up and doing laundry and then move to your room while she's cleaning up the kitchen and cooking?" Christine suggested.  
Erik nodded. "Sounds good. Maybe we need... a bit distance, time apart from each other," he agreed and involuntarily reached out to touch her stomach with two fingers of his right hand. Christine rolled her eyes but said nothing. "Sorry," he mumbled, "I try not to..." he touched her stomach again "but... it is like... I can barely resist." He reached out again but this time he stopped himself.

Erik took a deep breath and crossed his arms before his chest. "Christine, you are right. You are young, you should not have to sit at home and watch me fading away slowly. You need to live. Maybe..." He took a deep, shuddering breath, then forced the next words out, nearly choking on them: "Send the Comte de Chagny a note, he can pick you up in his carriage, drive around and you can have tea... I think you need a few hours a day without me and... I have work to do."

Now it was Christine who reached out for him, she put her arms around his chest, pressed her cheek against his breast, feeling his ribs through the fabric of his shirt and vest. "O Erik! I don't want to leave you alone!" she mumbled into his vest.  
His arms gently embraced her. "My darling, I do not want to quarrel. Never again. My life is far too short for anger and misunderstandings. Please - I really want you to meet the Comte de Chagny at least once a week. Maybe twice. You need to... you need someone your age... your childhood friend... you need to see that your life goes on, you have so many years to be happy. Please... do it for my child, for our child."

* * *

Raoul was more than surprised to get a letter from Christine asking him to pick her up every Tuesday and every Friday at 9 o'clock and bring her home at noon. The first time he came to her he was more than surprised to find Erik open the door to him. Erik bowed a bit to him, politely inviting him in, asking him to wait until Christine got her coat.

While Christine was still debating with the maid about the lunch, Raoul surveyed the room. It looked more like a music room with the grand piano, the violin and the harp. No desk, only a couch and a couch table. "Monsieur de Chagny," Erik said in a low voice, "Please do cheer her up... she needs to get out of this... and I am no longer able to help her. She needs to be among people of her age, she needs to see there is a happy future for her. She's so very young and so full of life, she can't sit at home and watch her husband dying."  
Raoul was not sure how to answer. He had never expected Erik to be that selfless, but then, maybe Erik was not selfless, maybe he just wanted to make sure his child would have everything it needed - a cuckoo isn't exactly a selfless bird, it is a parasite. Well, Erik certainly was a cuckoo, impregnating poor Christine when he fully well knew he would never have to raise the child. But then... Erik surely wasn't dying because he chose to do so. Raoul just nodded, then answered: "Monsieur, I will take the best care of her." It was more than double meaning and both understood it right.

Christine did not understand how Erik could so easily wish her a nice time and dismiss her when he knew perfectly well she was spending it with Raoul. She could not know that he was terribly worried about her and the baby, especially when he saw her that depressed. Erik knew that he had to do something to show her that her life would go on, that she would have a good live without him, or their child would be left an orphan, and that was something he dreaded more than anything else. He had come to the painful decision that he did no longer matter, his life was over, all he could do now was to ensure a better future for his child - and his child would need a mother who loved it, cared for it, and not a mother who wasted her own life in grief. He would do all he could to help her. It was weird - he was the one who was fatally ill and he was comforting her. Well, when had anything in his life been normal? So why should his death be normal? Erik could even laugh at that and it surprised himself how calm he was. He was not bitter or sad, no, he had accepted his fate and all he felt was thankful for the good time he had been granted with her and for the child. Nothing else mattered.

Christine leaned against Raoul in the carriage. She felt bad for leaving Erik alone, but she was grateful for a reprieve from home, from watching Erik being ill, from both of them becoming more and more irritable and short tempered. "Raoul, I feel horrible. Erik is so ill and I leave him alone... but... we are constantly annoying each other, just because we are like two cats in one cage. Please, tell me something. Anything from the world outside that little backyard house."  
Raoul took a deep breath. "The reconstruction of my urban villa is finished. I added a very large room were children could play, now it is really perfect for a family with many children. I have twelve children's rooms..."  
"Twelve?" Christine laughed, "Aren't you a bit too optimistic?"  
"Better too many than not enough, isn't it?" Raoul answered happily, "And of course that large room where there is nothing that could get dirty or break or whatever. I want a room were children can run, play ball and be noisy as much as they like. I always wanted such a room when I was a child, our children should have it."  
Christine looked down at her stomach, gently caressing it. Raoul understood her unspoken question, she was worried he might reject the child that was not his. "Christine, I will never ask you to give your child away. I will raise it as if it was my own. Maybe I will even adopt it. Do not worry, the child will want for nothing and I will never hold its father's sins against it. I could never hate any child of yours."

* * *

When Christine came home, she found Erik had build a fire in the stove, it was quite warm in the livingroom. Erik was lying on his back on the couch, tugged in a soft blanket, a cup of hot tea on the couch table, and he was reading a book. A closer look told her that it was her diary. Her diary! Erik sat up immediately as he noticed her and hid her diary under his blanket, took off his glasses and looked up at her a bit like a boy caught with his hands in the cookie box.

"Erik! How dare you read my diary?" she inquired without any greeting.  
"Good evening to you too," Erik answered sheepishly, "I was just reading..."  
"MY diary! These are my private thoughts, some things I do not even tell the doctor or in confession - how dare you invade my privacy like that? How dare you?"  
Erik shrugged: "How else am I supposed to control you?"  
Christine was angry enough to stomp her foot. She would have loved to slap him right now. "You are NOT supposed to control me!" she yelled, "Have you learned nothing at all, Erik? I am your wife, not your property!"

"Of course. That is exactly why I am doing this. You do not tell me everything, so I have to find out another way - one that is not as disturbing as checking your underwear or something like that," Erik answered innocently.  
Christine slapped him. Not hard, but she could not stop herself from slapping him now. How could he tell in that childish-innocent voice that he considered it his right - or even his duty - to control her like that?  
"Ouch," Erik exclaimed, rubbed his cheek but stayed seated, "I guess you are really angry with me now."

Christine needed a few breaths before she was in control of her voice again. "Please tell me you did never check my underwear!" she demanded. If he said yes now she would be sick - and she would make sure to be sick on him!  
"Of course not," Erik answered indignant at such a suspicion, "I respect your privacy." Christine's eyes went wide. Did he notice what he was saying? He was reading her diary - it was still in his hands - and telling her he respected her privacy?

"How do you know I am writing a diary?" she asked, now a bit calmer.  
"You always did. Why would you stop?" Erik answered, not understanding where this would be heading.  
"But how did you get my diary? I had it well hidden!"  
Now it was Erik's turn to laugh. "O my dear Christine! Sometimes you are such a naive girl! You hid it in the secret hiding place in my mother's old vanity table. I knew about that secret drawer since I was about six years old!" Christine felt like slapping herself for her stupidity now. Of course - it was the vanity table from her bedroom, he had told her these furniture had been his mother's. She should have known.

"I do not want you to read it," Christine said.  
"Why? I won't tell anyone. And... reading it is so much fun," he opened a page in her diary at a certain page and read aloud: "I wish I had a friend in my age I could ask. Erik inspires the strangest feelings in me... some are so good and I do not understand what happens to me. He made me feel warm, almost too warm, and..." Christine snatched away her diary and pressed it against her breast. She was bright red with shame. A highly amused tone crept into Erik's voice as he said: "Don't worry, my dear, I have already memorized that passage."  
"You... you are the... the worst... the most... the... the..." she could not find the right words in her embarrassment and anger, "You... you... ERIK!"  
Erik burst into laughter. "O yes, my dear, that is really the best expletive to describe me!" Christine had to laugh at this too. Her anger gave way to amusement as she sat down on the couch beside him with a heavy sigh.  
"O Erik, what am I to do with you?" she sighed as if he was an exceptional stupid child.

He leaned his head against her shoulder and put his right hand on her round belly, caressing it gently, lovingly. "Love me," he whispered, "And love our child." Christine felt as if her anger and embarrassment had been blown away like a bit of smoke in a storm. He touched something in her very core, she placed her hands on his and held them to her stomach. That moment the baby kicked and they felt it.

"It is dancing," Erik exclaimed happily.  
"Feels more like it is beating me from inside," Christine groaned. The baby's kicks to her stomach could even be painful. But since the baby had once hit a rib it did no longer kick upwards but forwards.  
"It is strong," Erik observed as another one of the baby's kicks met his hands. His eyes sparkled with pride and happiness.  
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 _Erik is fatally ill - but he is still Erik and sometimes he can't help being childish._


	135. Chapter 135

**Madness and Hope**

The first of December came sooner than Christine had ever feared it would. Erik was quite busy planning his funeral party as if this was a birthday party. He was excited, cheerful and happy. Christine could not understand how he could see his death as something worth celebrating, but obviously he liked the idea of him being alive and attending to his own funeral party. He had found a nice restaurant, not too far away, that had an extra room where they would be undisturbed by other guests. The extra room even had a small piano and some potted flowers.

The landlord was not surprised to have someone ordering a funeral meal, but he was more than surprised to hear that the special requirements were that the deceased would be very much alive and attending to his own funeral party. Erik did not feel like explaining this to the landlord, he just told him what he wanted the party to be like. The landlord shrugged it off - another bored, rich man with a taste for the bizarre and macabre - as long as he payed, he would get exactly the party he wanted. Christine was glad she was wearing a hat with a veil for she blushed with shame. This was all so weird, Erik was acting as if this was all great fun and it was even more macabre because he was really fatally ill. If he had not been ill Christine would have laughed at his weird idea of attending to his own funeral party, but now... it was just weird.

"We have a problem with the menu," Erik said as he studied the menu card, then he started to give the landlord a lengthy lecture about dietary rules of other religions. Christine did not listen any longer. Of course, the Daroga. He would not eat pork and he would not drink wine. But why did Erik feel the need to enter a discussion for about an hour before he could decide on a menu?

The first of December was a cold day and it was snowing. Erik liked this for it made it very easy for him to cover himself. He wore a shawl that covered his face almost entirely when he held his head low and pulled the hat down. No one saw that he wore one of his fawn masks under the scarf and no one cared to look carefully enough to notice that. He and Christine were just another middle-class couple trying to get out of the snow. It was nice to walk like that and Erik enjoyed their walk to the restaurant. Christine didn't. She didn't like being a widow with a husband who was still alive - but for how long? She wondered if she should buy a Christmas present for him, would he be alive then to receive it? But then... NOT buying one would be far more cruel, because what if he survived to see Christmas and she had nothing for him?

They were the first ones to reach the macabre funeral party, Erik was excited like it was a birthday party and not a funeral party - HIS funeral party. Or better - some macabre farewell-party. Erik was acting like he planned to go on a long journey and wanted to tell his friends good-by. To Christine this was weird, uncomfortable, but understandable. Erik wanted to make his farewells before he died, maybe wanted to make amends and maybe even wanted to say thank you. Of course a dying man would want to make peace with everyone. But why did Erik have to do this in such a macabre way? Hosting his own funeral party and demanding that all guests had their obituary for him - while he would listen to that. And then the clothing. No black, that was his order, something colorful, cheerful, happy. It certainly did not fit his previous lifestyle. Where was the Erik who slept in a coffin to get used to eternity and had a requiem painted to his walls? Not that Christine wanted that back - but Erik celebrating his death as if this was something to be happy - that was even more disturbing.

The next one to arrive was Dr. Raynard. Christine was not surprised to see the doctor there. Erik greeted the doctor cheerfully: "I'm so happy that you came. You did not forget our bet, did you? If I live to attend my own funeral party you pay the bill." Christine cringed. This was embarrassing. Erik was shamelessly scrounging and she felt bad about this, but right now she could not berate him.

"No, I did not forget, actually I hoped to see you alive today," the doctor answered, "Seldom have I seen one with your illness to survive that long."  
"What is your next bet?" Erik challenged.  
"If that is the kick you need to keep fighting: end of January," Raynard answered with a smile, "If you are alive at the end of January... you and your family get all treatment they need from then on for free."  
"Thank you," Erik answered simply, then showed the doctor to his seat.

Erik had not invited many guests. Of course the Daroga was there, the head of the authority and the cleric Erik had come to trust somehow. Christine felt sad about how few people Erik considered more or less his friends. Erik greeted all of them with unusual friendliness.

"Before we are going to have our feast I'd like to hear your funeral speeches," Erik said cheerfully, "So - you know the rules, 'de mortui nil nisi bene'. I'm really curious if anyone would find enough good things to say about me that your speech will last longer than one minute. My watch is very precise." Erik smiled as if this was great fun. He really liked to hear his own funeral speeches and was really curious if anyone would find anything good to say about him.

Dr. Raynard got up first. "Well, as your physician I think I am the one to speak first. It is seldom that the doctor is invited to the funeral party. And I have never seen a funeral party with the deceased very much alive and as cocky as always. Maybe I am a better doctor than I thought and I hope to lose my bet, I really do. Never have I encountered a man with such an endurance. I do not know much about you, but what I know is, that you always had to fight hard for everything everyone else would consider normal and not even think about. I guess it is a miracle you are alive. I really admire your willingness to cooperate in my studies. I have no idea if it is just your sheer stubbornness or your herbal tea recipes or that diet I recommended - but if you managed to expand your life-span, maybe it will help others too and maybe one day we will know a cure for this. I really appreciate your selfless cooperation, for you must have known that this study might help others but it won't help you." The doctor sat down, leaving the others speechless for a moment.

"You all know my scientific curiosity," Erik shrugged, "And if it is myself I have to study." He didn't want to admit that his real motivation to cooperate had been first the illusion that there might be a cure, then, when he had to give up hope, the desperate need to do something good, anything, the hope of a dying man to bargain with God for a miracle. But then Erik noticed that he already had had his miracle and finally accepted his fate and watching Christine's stomach grow had changed his perspective completely. Whatever would ensure a better future for people in general would also help his child, and his possible grandchildren - he suddenly no longer wished human race to go extinct, he wanted to help in any way he could. If the doctor's study would one day result in a cure, it might save his child or one of his grandchildren too. Erik wanted to make a cynical commend that the good doctor had already surpassed one minute, making it very hard for the others to make longer speeches for there was not much nice to say about him, but the words were never spoken. He was too busy biting back tears.

"My turn," the short man said as he got up, "When I first met Erique Davisseau I thought he was the most arrogant, despicable, cynical bastard I ever met, an absolute ruthless, unscrupulous racketeer of a business man."  
"O thank you," Erik answered, as if that had been a compliment and grinned. He knew this was the short man's way to tell him that he respected him.  
"I am sure a prison cell was where he belonged to be. But then... then I met another side of him. I will never be able to repay you for the great service you did to me when you saved three of my children from certain death. But you did not only save them - I guess your words had much more impact on them than anything I could ever have said to them. And for that, I thank you, with all my heart." He sat down again and nodded to Erik, who had lowered his head and pulled down his hat to hide his tears he could no longer hold back. He had planned this to be a cynical, morbid party - he had planned to laugh death in the face and now he was moved to tears himself. He could not even thank the man, his voice failed him.

Erik needed a moment to control himself before he could speak again. He turned directly to the cleric. "You do not need to say anything. I know you will read a Mass or two for my soul, no need to do that now."  
"But I'd like to," the cleric answered, "Don't worry, I won't give away any secrets. When I got your invitation I thought you were mad and wanted to berate you for this really macabre idea - but now I think you handle this with much respect and dignity. Since I am your father confessor, I better say nothing more. Just so much - personally I forgive you every lie you ever told me."

Erik answered seriously: "Thank you. Would you come to my home once a week? I can no longer come to your church, I'm afraid. But I want to... have a spiritual care. I... whew, that's not easy on me... I just... I've never been the religious type, but now that..." He stopped himself. He had no idea what he wanted to say or how to say it. He found he lacked the cold cynical supercilious point of view he had always had regarding death. He was just as helpless as anyone else, maybe even more, for he had seen so many people die, far too many at his own hands. Their blood on his hands. The terror in their eyes when their hearts had stopped beating.

"Don't worry, I understand," the cleric said sympathetic, "It would be an honor to help you."

Erik turned to the Daroga. "My friend, give me a moment before you say anything or I will cry like a sentimental old fool."

The Daroga did not listen to him. "When I was sent to find that mysterious magician I never thought I would find a brother," he started.  
"You are really trying to make me cry, aren't you?" Erik interjected, trying to gain some of his cynicism.  
"Erik, would you PLEASE listen to me? Just once?" the Daroga shot back, slightly annoyed. Erik shrugged and nodded. What else could he do? This was no time for banter, if he wanted to know something about his friend, he needed to listen now. "When we first met, I have to admit that I was scared of you. Really scared. You were the most dangerous man I ever met, and yet, despite everything, you maintained some childlike innocence and... you had so much capacity for enthusiasm, I wondered how someone with your cruel fate could be so... positive. I do not want to remember the dark years. But I will always remember you as my brother, if not by blood, then by soul. I thought I had lost my brother, but... you remember when you called both of us old fools when we sat in the box at the opera? That evening I knew that I had my brother back."

"You really want to see me weep like a baby," Erik gasped, he tried not to let his feelings show but he could not hide that he was moved by his friend's words, "Daroga, you sentimental, stubborn booby - can you ever forgive me what I did to you?"  
"I forgave you long ago," the Persian said and reached out to embrace his friend. Erik flinched, but he did not back away, he did not know what to do, finally he accepted the gesture of his old friend. "You irresponsible incorrigible scoundrel," the Daroga added, making them both laugh.  
"Thank you, brother," Erik whispered.

"Erik," Christine said, wiping her eyes with her handkerchief, "I want to say something too."  
"You don't have to, my dear," Erik answered lovingly, "I know."  
"No, I want to. Erik, I never thought that... fear and pity and anger could turn to love. But you were right, it is possible. I do love you."

"Then... you do forgive me?"  
"With all my heart."

Erik took a deep shuddering breath, then he straightened his spine, squared his shoulders and said in a cheerful voice: "Now that we have all had our fill in melodramatic sentimentality, we should tell the waiter to serve the meal. Don't worry, I made sure that all of you can eat this without any moral qualms. And that was not easy, really."

"Why was this not easy?" Christine asked astonished.

"Because, my dear, we have a Moslem and a Jew and they have different dietary rules," Erik explained, then grinned at his superior, "I know you try to keep it secret for fear it might handicap you in your career, but right now I... I do not want you to hide. I'm sorry if this offended you in any way, but... This is the last time I see you and I do not want anyone to hide himself behind a mask. Except me, that is. Now, please stop staring at me as if I was already dead. You can weep all you like when I am really dead, now I just want everyone to enjoy himself."

It was Erik who did his best to entertain his guests. He had many anecdotes to tell - even if he did not stick to the truth at all for the sake of a better story - and he really managed to cheer them up. It was maybe the merriest funeral party of all times, and it was the 'deceased' himself who had the most fun.  
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	136. Chapter 136

**Madness and Hope**

When Erik and Christine got home late that night, he turned to her to embrace her gently. "Thank you, my living, loving wife, for this wonderful night."  
"Erik, I... I wish you would not die," she answered, burying her face in the sift fabric of his coat, "I want to live with you."  
"Yes, I know. But it is not that bad, you see - I am contend. I am grateful for what I had - what I still have and I do not ask for more. No, my dear, there is no need to cry."

"No need to cry?" Christine smiled bitterly, "But I love you."  
"Yes, and you will love our child. You will love my music. See, this is my gift to you - all my compositions are in large folders in my cupboard, they are all I can give you now. They are yours to do with as you please. But they are not for being published - please. I trust Raoul de Chagny to keep his promise and wipe out every evidence of my existence. But my music - I thought about burning it, but I can't. I can't bring myself to do it and I... I want you to have it. You can burn it, if you like, but... I can't do it and I don't want Raoul de Chagny to do it. But I don't want it published, never. Just... maybe... maybe our child will want to have it one day, or a grandchild... please."  
"I will keep it," Christine promised. She would treasure the scores, his scores. And she would make sure their child would inherit it, she would make sure to tell their child, if it was old enough to understand, who its real father was.  
"Thank you."

Their guests found little presents in their pockets when they came home. Erik was not only a master thief, he could always place something in one's pocket without anyone seeing how he did it.

The Daroga found Erik's best golden pocket watch and its chain. Erik obviously had decided he would no longer need a watch. There was no letter, nothing. Just the beautiful watch. When he opened it, he found that something had been engraved in the cover, one sentence in Arabic letters: "He who saves one life saves the world entire." He knew this sentence from the Quran and in a little modified wording from the jewish Talmud. He was surprised to find that Erik must have read those books. He had known Erik loved books but usually stayed away from everything philosophical or religious for it only tended to make him either depressed or cynical. Or at least Erik had always told him so.

The cleric found a small hymnbook. It was nothing special and it was obviously not used often. When he opened it, it fell open on one page as if it had always been opened only on that page. It was the Lord's Prayer and someone - obviously Erik himself - had corrected the score with red ink. His version of the chant was better than the original one.

Doctor Raynard found a small notebook with almost indecipherable writing. There were sketches of plants, obviously herbs. As far as he understood this was Erik's notebook with the gypsy portions Erik had deemed efficient. What a fitting gift to a doctor - he might be able to make a study of it, maybe improving them.

The head of the authority found small dividers. They were used and he could see that these had been Erik's favourite dividers. He didn't know why, they were a very precise tool but it was a tool like many others. There was nothing special about them. But he understood that this was a parting gift, something very personal and very important. He placed them on his desk in his office.

The next day was difficult for Christine, because Erik must have eaten something he could not stomach and was ill. He felt very weak and sick, he could barely stomach anything. But he was so thin, he had lost so much weight and now dressed only in his nightshirt and dressing gown she could see the bulge in his flat stomach where the cancer was below ribcage on his left side. She could really see it, when she held the bucket for him as he retched again.

"I am sorry," Erik whispered, "I didn't want you to have to nurse me."  
"It's okay, Erik, try to relax. I already sent the maid to get Dr. Raynard. He must be here any moment now," Christine tried to soothe him.  
Erik lied back on her bed - she had insisted that he would not move to his room for he had no stove in that room and he was always cold now - and covered himself with the blanket. "No, it's not that... I am sorry that you have the disgusting duty of nursing me now. You are pregnant, I should be nursing you."  
"I have to wash out the bucket - or do you..." She couldn't even finish the sentence for he sat up again and retched. His stomach was empty, she was sure of that by now, but it still heaved.

"It is okay, Erik, try to relax. Do you want some tea?" Christine asked as she gently caressed his back like he was a sick child. He nodded, as he tried to calm his breathing. She placed another bucket next to the bed and took the used one away. Erik had taken off his mask but she found she didn't mind now. His face was horrible, but this horrible death's face on a fatally ill man was somehow different - it was no longer that frightening. He was vulnerable, weak, helpless. She had to admit that he was still repulsive but her pity enabled her to care for him despite her disgust at his sight.

Dr. Raynard came immediately when he was told who needed his help - he had been at that man's funeral party the night before, he had no experience with a patient who suffered from cancer and survived that long. He had no idea how he could help Erik.

When the doctor arrived, Erik as already better. He sat on the bed, drinking a cup of ginger tea. He had told Christine to make it as strong as possible and now found it difficult to drink - even he had limits and this was clearly too hot even for his taste. He had to admit that Christine was the first one to make something too spicy for him. So she had added a bit honey and now he could sip it.

"You are too late," Erik greeted the doctor sneering, "I am over the worst."  
"That's good to hear. What was it? Too many painkillers?" the doctor asked curiously and checked Erik's pulse.

"Painkillers?" Christine echoed from the door. The maid was nowhere to be seen. Christine had send her away to buy vegetables and eggs, she wanted her to cook soup.  
"I don't take them," Erik said, "I sold them."  
"You... you did WHAT?" the doctor asked dumbfounded.  
"I sold them," Erik answered calmly as he leaned back into the pillows, "I don't take them. YOU said they help with the pain but they would shorten my life. I won't take them, better not even have them within my reach, but I made a nice little profit from selling them."  
"But Monsieur, you can't just..." the doctor objected. He had given Erik strong pain relievers - they should not be given to someone else and of course not be sold in the streets! Erik just shrugged. It did not matter to him. He would not take them, that was all that mattered to him. He would not spend his last days sleeping or dazed by drugs, he'd rather endure any amount of pain. Erik's gaze turned to Christine. She wore that lovely green dress and he could see her round belly. Dr. Raynard's face softened, as he realized what Erik was doing.

"Very well," he said, "Do you have any idea what caused this?"  
Erik smiled: "I think I just drank too much wine yesterday and had too much food. I wanted to enjoy myself one last time and willingly accepted the consequences, that's all. So... if you have any hopes of winning our little bet, forget it! I won't give up that easily."  
Dr. Raynard laughed at this. He did not know why but he was rather fond of this man and his macabre humor. "I really hope so - the longer you survive the better for my reputation," he shot back, then added seriously: "You should be careful to have someone else in the house except you and your wife. She's pregnant and maybe if something happens neither one will be able to call me. Can your maid live with you for some time? Or a relative, a friend?"

"No," Erik refused, "Not now. I am strong enough now. But when it is necessary we will find a way."  
"But Erik..." Christine cut in, but Erik silenced her.

"No, my dear. I want to keep up my normal live and spend time with you - and only with you - as long as possible. If you feel bad about leaving me alone on some mornings I can invite the Daroga to have a game of chess with me. But everything else - only when really necessary."  
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	137. Chapter 137

**Madness and Hope**

It was painful for Christine to see Erik becoming weaker with each passing day. He was no longer able to stay up more than four hours at once and needed much rest, he slept almost sixteen hours a day now. He would get up, have breakfast with her, then go to bed again where he stayed until noon. They could have supper together, then he needed a nap. He was up from about 3 p.m. to 10 p.m. and then he was exhausted. Christine felt bad each time she left him alone but she needed these hours with Raoul, she needed his assurance that everything would be fine. She felt guilty for leaving Erik alone but he pointed out that he didn't need her watch him sleep until noon.

"I have not even bought any Christmas present for him," Christine told Raoul, as he took her home after a nice walk in the snowy park, "But what could I possibly give him? He might be dead at Christmas, he might die the next day - at first I thought about something he would like - a book, paper for his scores - but he does not read much, he does not compose any longer, he starts nothing he can't finish the same day. I don't know... What can I do? I know he plans to go to buy something for me tomorrow, I don't want to buy nothing but I also do not want to give him something he will never be able to use. O Raoul, I am a horrible woman! Now I am whining and demanding to be comforted by you, the man I am going to marry when he's dead! You have no idea what horrible woman I am! I do not deserve you!"

Raoul had no idea what to say. Was this just a sudden mood switch caused by pregnancy or was she really that distressed? She had every right to be upset - Raoul did not know if he could blame Erik for that, well, Erik certainly had not deliberately fallen ill, but right now Raoul would have preferred to take Christine away from him right now, but Christine didn't allow that. She said she could not leave Erik now that he was that weak. He was never alone now, either Christine or the maid or his friend, the Persian, was with him. Raoul decided he would talk to Erik, he simply had to tell him just how selfish he was to force poor Christine not only to have his child but also to nurse him now. If he was really dying he should go to a hospital and die there - without troubling anyone, especially not Christine!

That was exactly what Raoul told Erik as Christine was changing her clothes in her room. Raoul ended his little speech with the words: "Can't you just die like a decent man?"  
The next moment Raoul was slammed into the doorframe, Erik's left hand around his throat, something sharp and cold in Erik's right hand pressing against his left side of the neck exactly where the jugular vein was pulsing. "One more word, Monsieur de Chagny, and Christine has to bemoan both our deaths," Erik hissed threatening. His grip on Raoul was nowhere as strong as Raoul remembered Erik's grip to be but he had caught the younger man by surprise and now with the knife pressing against his skin Raoul did not dare to fight, although the noticed that he would be able to overpower Erik - if he was willing to risk a knife-wound.

"Erik!" Christine's horrified scream startled both men.  
Erik let go of Raoul and took a few steps back. His knife disappeared as if it had never been there. He staggered and leaned against his piano, breathing heavily. "I am sorry," Erik whispered, "I do not want more blood on my hands. I guess it is just nerves - dying is not as easy as one might think, not when one is as burdened with guilt as I."

Raoul took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. "I should not have said that. That was really rude of me. Do you accept my apology?" Erik and Christine looked at each other, they were not sure to whom this apology was addressed to. When no one said anything, Raoul feigned a cough, then added: "Everyone should at least die with dignity and no one has to answer for the way he chooses to... live his last days."  
Erik just shook his head slightly. "No, I understand. Christine needs more time out of this house. She needs more time to be happy and less sorrows. Christine... you carry life, you should... Maybe... I should not put you through this."

"And what are you going to do? Lie down and die alone? No! I do not want to hear one more word, neither from you nor from you! Raoul, please, we see each other tomorrow. Good-by!" Christine snapped at both of them, "Erik, we have to talk about this."

* * *

The next day Raoul met the Persian as they both were visiting Erik and Christine at the same time and both had the habit of arriving early.  
"Good morning, Monsieur le Comte," the Daroga greeted polite.  
"Morning," Raoul grumbled. He still had not forgiven the Persian for changing sides.  
"You are a bit early," the Persian observed.  
"As are you."

This was a bit awkward, they did not want to talk to each other, so they stood there, not wanting to knock too early, in icy silence. Christine rescued them by just opening the door and politely asking them inside while she got her coat and hat. Erik was sitting at the couch, hiding behind a newspaper, pretending not to be there at all.

Christine turned to the Persian before she left with Raoul: "You know that he is stubborn as a donkey, perhaps you can talk some reason into him. He wants to go out to buy Christmas presents for me - but it is too cold, the coldness worsens his pain. Please - if you can't persuade him to stay at home in this snowstorm..."  
"Nice sunny winter day," Erik objected grumpy.  
"... please make sure he wears the woolen vest, the grey one, and..." Christine went on, pretending not to have heard Erik's comment.  
Erik crumpled up the newspaper as noisily as he could and scoffed: "Yes, mother!"

The Daroga rolled his eyes. Obviously they had just had a heated discussion and were now sulky like two small children. It would have been funny if there was not that tragic background. Raoul blushed, he was rather embarrassed to have to witness their quarrel.

Christine turned round, took Raoul's arm and said: "Come on, Monsieur le Comte. I am really looking forward to spending THIS WHOLE DAY with a man who is REASONABLE!" Raoul made sure they got away as soon as possible.

"Daroga, tell me are all pregnant women that DOMINEERING?" Erik called out, loud enough that Christine could hear it despite the closed door. She rolled her eyes.

"God, if that child turns out to be only half as challenging as its father I'm not sure how I will survive without drowning it in the bath!" Christine sighed as she settled down in the carriage next to Raoul who silently wondered if Christine would agree to give the child to a residential school after all. The child would get a good education and would be out of the way. Christine opened her handbag and gave a relieved sigh as she saw a small notebook with a beautiful silk binding. "My diary. I better take it with me when I leave the house," she explained. Raoul wondered how it would be like when Christine would be his wife - it would not be long until his dream would come true. She was not the helpless girl looking up to him for guidance and protection she had been once, she was a grown up woman who made her own decisions and, more than that, was able to boss around the Phantom of the Opera! A rather frightening thought for Raoul.

As soon as Christine was out of the house, Erik went to the bathroom, opened a small trapdoor in the floor and took out a wooden box.  
"What are you doing?" the Daroga asked.  
"Earning money," Erik grinned sheepishly, "I need Christmas presents for her. I know exactly what I want to buy but that will be expensive. Don't worry, you can accompany me - I really appreciate your concern for my health and to be perfectly honest, I need you as pack donkey since I do not possess the strength I once had."  
"Pack donkey?" the Daroga huffed. Erik was still the selfish boy he had always known. And the Daroga was still good-natured fool who allowed himself to be exploited.

But he could not help noticing that Erik put on the woolen vest Christine had mentioned earlier and two cardigan jackets before donning his cloak. Erik then put on a fawn silk mask which he covered with a black shawl and his wide-brimmed hat. His stride was a bit slow and he walked cautiously with rather small steps. The Daroga wondered if Erik was still able to put up any fight at all or if he needed all his strength not to fall on the snowy sidewalk. Watching Erik staying close to the walls of the houses and walking really carefully he suspected the latter.

Erik knew exactly what he wanted. He went to a shop where elegant ballroom dresses were sold second hand. "I can't afford a new one," he admitted ashamed, "But she will like it. But before we can go inside... ah, there he is!" Whoever was there, the Daroga didn't see anyone. Then a tiny, ill-looking man crouched toward them, he looked even more sick than Erik, if you did not take the face into account. Erik just handed him the box and took a bundle of bank notes in return. He counted them, shrugged and both went their way without one word to be exchanged.  
"What was that?" the Daroga asked suspiciously, his instinct told him that he had just witnessed a crime.  
"Nothing. I was just selling the painkillers I persuaded the good doctor to give me to him. He pays well."  
"What painkillers?" the Daroga asked, even more suspicious.  
"Morphine, why do you ask? I do not take any of this, I want to live as long as possible. But he... well, I guess he's committing a slowly suicide. Not my business. I do not turn up my nose at desperate people. I wonder why Dr. Raynard gave me the morphine when he knew I had sold the last box as well. Maybe I have a talent to find softhearted people I can take advantage of," Erik mused.  
The Daroga stopped for a while, thinking about it. Was this Erik's way to ask his forgiveness or saying thank you? Was Erik reflecting his actions or was he just mocking him?

Erik went into the shop without taking off his hat or his shawl, pretending to be cold. He asked directly for a black coat and a black hat with a black veil for a woman. The shopkeeper looked at him sympathetically and asked if there was a bereavement in the family. Erik just nodded. He did not tell that he himself was going to be the bereavement. The Daroga wondered how Erik could pick a black coat for Christine now, but it was more like a cape, so she would be able to wear it no matter if she was pregnant or not. The cape was very much like Erik's cape he did no longer use. Erik picked a decent black hat with a thick veil, it would hide her face completely when she used the veil. "So... now I want a ballroom dress for the same woman. It should be... maybe it should be a bit too large, tightening it is no problem for a seamstess but one can't very well make it larger. Colour... either blue or gold or... champagne would do too."

"Are you buying a wedding dress for her?" the Daroga asked horrified at the thought.  
"Yes, of course. A second hand dress for a second hand bride... No, sorry, that was really rude and I do not mean it like that," Erik gave a deep sigh, then added in a low voice: "I wish her all the happiness of the world, with all my heart - or what's left of that twisted, stupid thing now."  
"Erik..." the Daroga didn't know how to comfort his friend now.  
But Erik misunderstood his intentions completely. "No need to berate me. I know that dying makes me a bit cranky."

* * *

Christine faced another problem. She wanted to buy something for Erik, but had no idea what that could be. Raoul suggested she could buy something for the baby but they already had a cradle and a suitcase full of different things a baby would need. He didn't dare to point out that a coffin and a tombstone would be the perfect gift, that would be rude and he certainly did not want to upset her. Poor Christine suffered enough having to nurse Erik now.

Finally Raoul had an idea: "What would you buy for him if he was not fatally ill?"  
Christine shrugged. "One of those leather-bound notebooks. He likes notebooks to write down his ideas. O Raoul, that is a really good idea! He will love that!" She opened her handbag and searched her purse. Raoul wondered what she was carrying with her in that handbag that made it so difficult to find the purse. "O no!" she exclaimed laughing, "That incorrigible trickster! He put money in my purse secretly when he suspected me to go to buy a present for him!"

When Christine came home she found Erik sitting on the couch, tucked into a blanket, with a large cup of tea on the couch table. He was reading - her diary! But she had it in her handbag? How was that possible?  
"Erik!" she exclaimed furiously.  
He put down the diary and gave her his most arrogant sneer. She did not see it for he wore a mask but she could tell by his eyes and the way he cocked his head. "Yes, my dear?" he said with mock innocence.  
"You are reading my diary again!" she accused him, then looked into her handbag - there was the same diary she had taken from the drawer. She opened it and found it empty except the first page. There was, in Erik's scrawly handwriting, just a note: "Sorry, my dear, I am currently reading your diary. If you want to write something down, feel free to use this one. Erik"

She could not help laughing and her anger was suddenly gone. "Erik, you incorrigible trickster!" she laughed.  
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 _I have no idea why yesterday Madness and Hope didn't show up as newly updated - I certainly did update. Technical issue, I suppose. Sorry._


	138. Chapter 138

**Madness and Hope**

On Christmas Day Erik was waiting for the cleric's visit anxiously, but he would not pace the room as he usually did, he was in a half sitting, half lying position in the couch, complaining that the cleric would not come. At first Christine explained that the man was very busy at this holiday, then she tried to get Erik to do something and finally she was annoyed and ready to snap at him when another thought crossed her mind - that he might be in very much pain and afraid he would die and therefor really could not wait for the priest to come and give them the Communion in private.

"Erik, are you...? Do you...?" she asked, not daring to say the word.  
"No, I'm not! I've never been patient, you know," Erik answered in an amused tone but his eyes spoke differently. They were widened and the way he clutched his hands over his stomach and his muscles tightened every so often told her the truth. He was in much pain.  
"Shall I call Dr. Raynard?" she asked worriedly.  
"And what would he do, eh? Offer me painkillers that tend to shorten my already short life?" Erik snapped, "Thank you, but no. I... I guess I am just hungry."

"Hungry?" Christine asked astonished. Since when was Erik hungry?

"I've been sick tonight, my stomach is completely empty and right now I... I do not know... Maybe I should simply eat something or at least have some tea."

That moment a knock at the door alerted them. Erik tried to get up, but he could not sit up like he normally would, he sank back and then tried to roll to his side, so he could get up from there. Christine stared at him in shock. This was not right, Erik could jump to his feet from any position. But he could barely get up now. "Shall I help you?" Christine asked.

"No, just open the door," he answered and finally managed to get to his feet.

The cleric looked a bit tired, no wonder, it was Christmas hand he had just read three Masses.  
"Merry Christmas," Erik said, trying to conceal his weakness, "May I offer something to drink? Tea, coffee?"

A few minutes later the three of them were sitting in the kitchen, drinking tea. "Do you want me to go to the other room?" Christine asked, knowing Erik wanted to make his confession. Knowing he could die any time now had changed him much, he suddenly thought about what might happen to him after his death and he was afraid. Had he refused to believe in anything years ago, now he suddenly refused not to believe, the thought that he would just vanish into nothing or worse, stayed on earth as a real ghost or suffered another punishment was unbearable - looking death right in the face had changed his priorities.

"No, it is nothing. I just have to confess that I lied, and it was only one lie," Erik smiled, there was not much remorse in his confession.  
"Do you regret this lie?" the cleric asked, Erik's light tone indicated that he was rather pleased with himself.  
"Yes, because I lied to the doctor - I told him I needed the morphine now, but I just wanted to sell it... I needed money to buy a present for my wife," Erik answered, blowing a bit at his teacup. The cleric, who had heard a full confession from Erik and knew that he was dealing with a man who had more blood on his hands than all of the prisoners in the La Santé together, put down his cup and stared at him confused.  
"But... you knew this was wrong from the beginning, didn't you?" he asked.  
"O yes, but I had no choice. It was... some sort of self-defence. You see, I had to get a Christmas present for my wife..."  
Christine couldn't help laughing. She knew Erik was absolutely serious, for Erik it was unthinkable that he would not pamper her. The cleric tried to give her a stern look but he couldn't, he himself was highly amused.

"What is so funny?" Erik demanded, he seemed to be the only one who did not understand.  
The cleric cleared his throat. "Nothing, you are absolutely right. Erik, we have had this talk long ago - you know that you are dying, how dare you endanger salvation of your soul now? And I am not under the impression that you actually regret what you have done."  
Erik lowered his head and tried to look ashamed.  
"I assume you are taking that risk because buying a present is more important to you than taking care of your own soul!" the cleric rebuked him.  
Erik shrugged. "It is a few years more in purgatory, but purgatory is not hell - I serve my time, then I get out and go to heaven. YOU told me that. Are you going back on your own lecture?"  
"Sometimes your logic misleads you."  
"Ah, MY logic misleads me? Who was the one who told me that I should trust my own heart?"

This was getting completely out of hand. Erik should not discuss, but he could not hold his tongue in check, he could not deny his need to prove his superiority somehow.

"I am not the one to judge you," the cleric answered. He didn't really know what to do with Erik - but he knew for sure he could not just leave him, he had promised to help him. "Well, I understood that you wanted to take your Communion in private?"

"Yes, but I too have to confess, don't I?" Christine asked. Erik looked at her as if he didn't understand that she was capable of doing anything wrong. "I am selfish. I am horribly selfish. My husband is dying and I spend time with... with the man I am going to marry after his death, and I am enjoying it. This is not right, I... I should not abandon him when he needs me most, but... I have to confess that there were days when I wished him dead. And now that he's so ill, I feel as if I caused that with my unholy wish."

This was surely the oddest couple in the world. The cleric decided he could speak the words of forgiveness and give them the consecrated bread. Sometimes he wondered if they needed a doctor and not a priest.

When the cleric had finished his duty he left them.

Christine got up to do the cooking, Erik stayed seated. He felt too bad to stand at the hearth and prepare the meal.  
"What is that present you risked your soul for?" Christine asked curiously.  
"Patience, my dear, patience. You'll get it after our lunch."  
"Erik, it is Christmas and all I can cook is... well, do you like vegetable soup, chicken soup, scrambled eggs or sausages?"

"It seems I have to teach you one more meal," Erik sighed in mock despair, "Roast beef is easy - in the box is the meat, then you need..."

* * *

It turned out a nice meal for them, then Erik asked Christine if she would like to have her present - she should just open her cupboard, she would easily see it. She did. There was a beautiful champagne-colored dress and a black velvet cape and a black hat. The dress... it looked rather like a wedding dress. "Erik... you didn't mean to..." she gulped.

"You don't need to use it. I just wanted you to have it, as a ballroom dress or a wedding dress or... whatever."

Christine turned round and went back to where he sat. Getting up was somehow trying for Erik so he still sat in the kitchen. He felt dizzy and tired and knew he needed to lay down, he needed rest. She went to him and gently kissed him on the lips that were uncovered for he still wore the mask he had designed for eating.

Christine went to one of the kitchen cupboards and took out the parcel she had hidden for Erik there. She had been sure he would not find it since it was in a drawer that contained only some things they would need after the baby was born. Or at least he wouldn't find it by accident.

Erik burst into tears as he found the nice leather bound notebook, one with musical staff. He knew he would not live long enough to use it up, but she had given him something that was for longer use - as if she hoped he would stay with her longer.

Soon after that Erik decided he needed a nap. "Do you want me to go to my own room?" he asked.  
"No. You sleep in our bed, as usual," Christine decided.  
"But if I am sick again and not able to get up in time?" he asked worriedly. He did not want to trouble her.  
"No, you sleep in our bed. When the baby is born, you will not have your own room any longer, did you realize that? Better get used to it," she replied, the words harsher than intended.

That night Erik asked her not to turn off the light. He suddenly was uncomfortable in the darkness, that alone alarming enough for Christine. He was very ill and she did not know what to do. She offered to call the doctor, but he refused. The doctor could do nothing for him now, he could only give him morphine as a relief from the pain, but Erik would have none of it. He knew morphine affected the breathing and now in his already weakened state he had a cough - diminished lung function might suffocate him in his sleep.

Christine woke that night because Erik coughed slightly. He was on his back, breathing again, asleep. But his breathing was shallow, slowly, as if he lacked the strength to draw breath properly. "Erik?" she asked softly. He did not respond, he did not wake up. His breathing became even more slowly and then it suddenly stopped. At first she held her breath, hoping he would start breathing any time now, but when he didn't she shook him, first gently, then harder. She took off his mask and slapped him across the face. He still did not react - and he did not breathe. His head lolled sidewards as she let go of him, crying hysterically.

After what seemed to be hours Erik took a shuddering breath and moved as if he tried to turn to his side. Christine gently took his shoulders and helped him to move to his side. He curled up without waking. She didn't dare go back to sleep for some time, she was afraid he might die and she would not even know.

Erik slept late that morning, he woke after ten o'clock. To his surprise he was alone in the bed, his mask on the nighttable, and he felt much better than the day before.  
"How do you feel?" Christine asked worriedly. Erik turned his head to see her standing in the door, a cup of hot chocolate in her hands.  
"Fine," he answered and sat up with some difficulty.  
"Liar," she retorted and sat on the bed beside him.  
He stared at her stomach. It was so round... the baby must be huge! But it was due in March, so they would have to wait three month - how much could a baby grow in three month? Christine was so slim, so small - and her stomach was huge, just how large was that baby of his? He reached out to gently caress her stomach again.  
"How are you two?" he asked.  
"Me - absolutely dependent on hot chocolate it seems. The baby - kicking like a horse. I guess it is going to become a boxer."

"She," Erik corrected, "It will be a girl."  
"How would you know?" Christine asked.  
"I just know. Tell me, my dear, did something strange happen tonight?" Erik asked.  
Christine frowned. "Yes. You stopped breathing, but then... you started again and now you look much better than yesterday." She took a deep breath and hoped she had not offended him with the careless use of the word "look". But Erik did not seem to notice. He pushed the pillows a bit up so he could sit in bed more comfortable. Then he looked at her, calm and composed.

"I had the most unusual dream tonight," he said, "I was in much pain and it was dark, it was so frightening dark and cold. Then I saw a warm light, it was warm, comforting, and I heard music - you can't imagine that glorious music, I was humbled for all my compositions are childish plaything compared to that. I just wanted to be there, to listen to that music, it drew me in. But there was a young man. He was... he was a bit taller than you, but he had your hair and your eyes. His face was nothing like yours, it resembled... my eldest brother, I think. Somehow I knew it was our son. I do not know why, how, I just knew. He said I could not come with him now for his mother and sister still needed me. He said, I should tell you that he loves you and he's looking forward to getting to know me better and we will have to wait for you and for his sister and his half-siblings a very long time."

 _XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX_

 _La Sante was the prison where dangerous criminals were kept waiting for their execution at the Guillotine. The (in)famous Bastille was no longer a prison at that time._

 _Erik_ _survived Christmas. But the baby is due in March..._

 _I won't keep you waiting too long, I finish this fanfic before Christmas, I promise, and if I have to write the last chapters all at Christmas Eve! (I just hope there won't be any server- or login- issues.)_


	139. Chapter 139

**Madness and Hope**

Christine got an invitation to Raoul's New Year Celebration, but this time she declined because she was absolutely sure it would not be good for her child, which was busy kicking and using her stomach as punching ball, to go to a party. Erik didn't object. He didn't talk much in the last days, he just sat at his piano, often wearing a light cloak despite the heat of the stove, playing some melodies and writing them down. He used the new notebook. The music he was writing now had nothing to do with his other compositions, this music was rather simple, but beautiful nonetheless. Simple melodies, and they caused a strange feeling of contentedness in Christine. But he could not stay up much, he was so very tired all the time, he had to spend most of the day in bed.

Erik was determined not to need her help in anything, he could not do much, but at least he would not be a burden. But with his strength fading rapidly he knew soon the simple task of getting out of a bathtub would be too much for him. He would need someone who was strong enough to eventually help him stand up or if necessary carry him - Christine could never do that, certainly not under normal conditions and even less in her state of pregnancy - and he would never allow it. The mere thought of her having to help him to wash, to get out of the bathtub or to make his way to the toilet was disgusting and humiliating, but he knew for sure he would soon need help. They could not ask the maid to help him, that would somehow be even worse, and finally he decided the only one he could ask was the Daroga. Erik hesitated to do so, his friend had done so much for him, he didn't want to ask for more. But he knew he soon would have no choice, especially when the baby could want to be born soon. He would not be able to call the doctor, he could barely leave the house now, and Christine would need help.

They spend the night from the 31st December to 1st January sitting on the bed, Christine drinking one cup of hot chocolate after the other and complaining the baby insisted in kicking her constantly so she had to go to the toilet every few minutes and couldn't sleep. Erik was content sitting there, holding her in his arms and placing his hands on her stomach to feel the baby kicking. He was sure it was a girl, but for a girl it must be extraordinary strong. He found that he himself was able to drink at least one cup of hot chocolate without getting sick and was happy about that.

* * *

Mid of January Erik finally swallowed his pride and asked the Daroga, who was visiting them each day now, if he would move in with them, just for a few weeks, he would not have to do anything, just call the doctor if necessary. Everything else would be done by the maid. The Persian hesitated. He knew this would not be easy but could he say no now?  
"What would you do if I said no?" he asked cautiously.  
Erik leaned back in his chair and considered this possibility that hadn't crossed his mind before for a while. Then he shrugged and answered: "I guess I would have to die before I become a burden to her." Erik closed his eyes for a moment, finally he said his voice trembling: "I do not want to die just yet - I want to see my child. Please... do not force me to go and... fetch something I forgot in the catacombs, please!"

The Daroga took a deep breath. He could not say no now. "Allright, I'll do it. But I take Darius with me, just in case. So... where is the guestroom?"  
"As if I had one..." Erik shook his head slightly amused, "You get my room, Darius can have the couch in the livingroom, Christine and I have the bedroom. It would be rather... overcrowded but it is not like we haven't been through this before, do we?" He did not want to speak of a time when the baby would be there too - he was not sure if he would still be around then.

* * *

In the meantime Raoul took Christine to his hotel particulier to show her the rooms he had already prepared for their children, especially the large "playground" room. Christine was delighted. Especially when Raoul showed her the first completely finished room, pointing out this was for the child she carried right now. The room was large and it was prepared so it could be a boy's or a girl's room. There was a place for the nursemaid too. "If you want to take care of your child yourself we could put up the cradle in our room, but I would prefer to raise him or her the traditional way," Raoul said and Christine nodded. Thinking of her failed attempts to be a housewife she wasn't sure if a nursemaid would be better for the child. "Have you decided of a name yet?" Raoul asked, curious.  
"No. I wanted to leave it to Erik, he wants to leave it to me - but you are right, it is time we decide on a name," Christine answered.  
"You know I am willing to adopt the child and raise it as mine," Raoul stated.  
"I know, but... I am not sure if I want this. It is Erik's child after all and... Let's do it like this: We just ask him."  
"You want him domineering our lives from beyond the grave?" Raoul snapped, suddenly angry.  
"O Raoul, no, of course not! But he is the father and we should at least consider his opinion rather than deciding behind his back," Christine replied calmly. Compared to Erik's temper Raoul was not even able to get angry. If Erik was a tiger, Raoul was a fluffy cat. Of course even cats have claws, but they can't tear one to pieces.

When Christine came home, she was surprised to find not only the Daroga and Erik but Darius as well. Erik saw Raoul at the door and waved his hand, indicating Raoul might come in. "Christine, my dear, we have guests for the next few weeks. And, Monsieur de Chagny, come in, if you like. I won't use my lasso on you, nor any other weapon. Who want's some tea?" Erik seemed to be in the "gracious host" mood - it would have been more convincing if he had not held onto the piano to steady himself.

Raoul did not know what to do. He felt completely out of place but thinking of what Christine had said earlier he decided to accept the invitation. Shortly after a really strange group sat in the livingroom. Erik and Christine sat at the couch, Erik tugged in a blanket despite the warmth in the room, Christine complaining about the heat. The Daroga sat at Erik's piano stool and Darius brought a chair from the kitchen for Raoul before taking over his role as manservant and serving tea.

Christine cleared her throat and told Erik that they had to discuss a name for their child. Erik just nodded and looked at her curiously, waiting for her decision.  
"Um, I thought you might want to suggest a name?" Christine asked.  
Erik shrugged. "It should be a name that... that does not offend the man who's going to raise my daughter."  
Christine smiled indulgently: "You are absolutely convinced it is going to be a girl?"  
"Absolutely," Erik replied, "And I want her to have a name he" - he pointed to Raoul - "will never be able to hate. What would that be?"

Raoul did understand Erik's motivation. "Don't worry - I will never stoop so low as to make an innocent child suffer for sins that are your's. No matter what it's name is."

Now the Daroga spoke up: "Erik, you once said becoming a father felt like having conquered all humanity. Why not use that as a name for the child? Victor is a good name."  
Christine clasped her hands. "Yes, I love that! Erik Victor - or Erika Victoria - how does this sound to your ears?"  
Erik grinned triumphantly: "Like the Comte de Chagny being sick any moment now. No, I am sorry, I didn't mean it like that, I just can't control my tongue. I can't stop myself from being mischievous, I'm sorry."

"For a dying man you are in astonishing good spirits," Raoul commended dryly and Erik grinned even more. He couldn't help himself. As weak as his body was, he felt even more alive than ever and he was excited about the name Christine had suggested.

But then Erik coughed and suddenly doubled up in pain. "It's nothing," he hissed through clenched teeth, "Nothing at all. It'll be over soon." Christine started massaging his shoulders comfortingly. It was the only thing she could do, she knew she could do nothing to ease the pain. As soon as it had begun, it was over again and Erik straightened his spine as much as he could and smiled. "I apologize. It is nothing, please don't mind me... now does anyone want cookies?"

Christine was the only one who was hungry now. She wondered why she was constantly hungry and constantly in need of sweets. The baby would be born with not one sweet tooth but at least six of them.

Erik turned to Raoul: "Monsieur de Chagny, you once promised you would wipe out every memory of my existence. Please tell me, do you intend to keep that promise? Is there anything I could do to help you in that task?"

Raoul was taken aback and didn't know what to say. Finally he decided to answer honestly, even as it pained him: "When I said that it was meant as an insult - I never assumed you would actually consider this as a favour."  
Erik chuckled. "I understood that perfectly well. But my life was... not easy and I think it will be easier for Christine and Erika Victoria if every memory of my 'unnatural god-forsaken existence' is wiped out completely. As much as it hurts me, I need to... stay a phantom, a ghost, a thing that only exists in fairy tales and legends but no one would ever find any reliable information about. Could you do that for me? Erase me as if I had never existed? I do not care if you do it out of your love for Christine or hatred for me - just do it, please."  
Raoul flinched. He didn't like the way Erik was able to use his exact words to get back to him. What was he to do now? Refuse? "I will do what I can," he answered, "But nothing illegal."  
"By all means," Erik answered grinning and spread his hands, "I would never ask anyone to... oops, I better say nothing or I have another issue for my next confession." No one could decide if Erik was serious or was just attempting to joke. Christine was sure this was absolutely serious, Erik was attempting to control himself and was clumsy and childish in this, the Daroga assumed that Erik was just mocking them and making a bad joke for he knew too well what Erik had done in the past.

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 _Now they have a name for the unborn baby._

 _Do not worry, I won't rush the story - I was just thinking that maybe I will post more than one chapter on 24th December. ;-)_


	140. Chapter 140

**Madness and Hope**

It turned out that Erik's idea to ask the Daroga to live with them for a while was absolutely necessary. Christine was somehow handicaped due to her pregancy and Erik faced a new problem he hadn't known before. Getting up was becoming harder and harder. He could not use the muscles of his stomach as he usually would. When he wanted to get out of bed he needed to roll to his stomach, then crawl to the edge until his feet touched the floor, only after that could he push himself up with his arms. This was definitely humiliating and trying, but he clenched his teeth and reminded himself of his vow not to become a burden.

Getting into the bathtub was still possible - but he could not push himself up and get out alone. He needed help. At first he considered just not taking a bath and only get a wash, but this was no option when he wanted to continue to sleep beside his wife. It was hard to ask his friend for help but he had run out of options. Again he had to swallow his pride and ask for help, feeling absolutely humiliated, even more because he knew his friend would never ask - or get - any compensation for his help. Erik was crying with shame when he first had to ask his friend to help him take a bath, he needed him to help him getting out of the bathtub.  
"Of course I help you," was the only answer the Persian gave. He knew how hard it was on Erik to beg for help in such a private matter.

The Persian was shocked as he saw Erik's naked body as he handed him a towel. Erik was far too thin, his skin an odd yellowish grey and wrinkled like a roast chicken's skin. All bones were protruding, as well as tendons and veins, the veins in an odd bluish-grey colour. He could almost see the joints work as Erik moved slowly, painfully, as if the weight of his own body was too much for him. Erik was a tall man but he had lost almost all of his muscles and fat - if he ever had any fat, that is - were gone, Erik was literally skins and bones. But his stomach was oddly swollen, especially at the left side beneath the ribcage. That must be that terrible thing, that cancer that was killing him. There were so many scars on Erik's body, so many... was there even one spot that had never been marred? Erik had nearly no weight at all, the Persian tried to guess Erik's weight. Less than 40 kilogramm, he was sure of that, maybe 35?

"You like what you see?" Erik snapped, he hated to be stared at.  
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to... but... I never thought you were that thin!"  
"A living skeleton," Erik sighed and sat down on the chair. He could not get dressed standing up, he was constantly dizzy now and afraid to fall for he knew that if he hurt himself now he might be rendered a cripple and not even able to do anything. He carefully bandaged his ankles and knees.  
"Do they hurt you?" the Persian asked.  
Erik nodded. "Yes, my knees have given me trouble for about ten years, my ankles for about... I'm not sure, about a year." He shifted uncomfortably. "Can you give me that... that bandage over there?" It was easier to ask the Daroga than to get up himself.  
The Daroga handed him the odd looking thing, eyeing it curiously. "What is this?" he asked.

Erik laughed. "It is a bandage, it presses the bulge in my stomach flat, this eases the pain. It works like a lady's corset you know. Well, you have always known my vanity, but that I would have to wear a corset one day..."

"Your strange humor is in best shape, I see," the Daroga replied. Erik chuckled. It was easier if he tried to laugh it off.

Sitting was another problem. Erik was so thin, sitting on a chair or even the couch was painful for the bones of his pelvis were no longer covered by muscles, he needed to sit on a pile of pillows and keep himself constantly tugged in a blanket from his breast to his feet because if he was cold the pains would come more often. Staying alive was now a full-time-job for him.

Erik needed much sleep now, he would get up late, have breakfast and immediately go back to sleep until noon. After having lunch he needed his next nap, got up to have what he called "coffee and cake" but he could only drink tea and eat some cookies. Only in the late afternoon he could stay up for a few hours, working. To him it was mist important to keep working, not because of the few Franc he earned that way, but because he needed to keep his mind occupied. Christine was surprised to find Erik keeping up that rigid discipline but the Daroga had expected nothing less. Sometimes he wondered if it was only Erik's iron will that kept him alive now.

They would all go to bed soon after dinner. The Daroga couldn't help noticing that Erik was still as obsessed with Christine as ever, but now he had a focus for his obsession, her well-being. He would constantly try to feed her something he thought she might need, be it eggs to make the child strong, milk to give it strong bones, fruits to make its hair shine or just chocolate to make "his two girls" happy. Or he would ask her to lie down and rest, she mustn't overexercise herself now. Erik was absolutely sure they would have a girl since his dream. And he touched her stomach whenever she came into his reach. Since getting up and walking was almost too strenuous for him, she could easily escape when it became too much, earning a frustrated growl from him, but he never even tried to follow her.

Erik slept 16 to 18 hours a day, therefor now it was easy for Christine to meet Raoul. Raoul noticed that Christine started to call her child "Erika Victoria", obviously because Erik always did. Raoul rather liked the idea of Erik having just a daughter when he himself would have sons and daughters with Christine. He was secretly planning their wedding, but he did not tell her, he did not want to make her sad. Raoul found that he did not like to see Erik suffer. When he saw that man reduced to a mere shadow of his former self, he did no longer see the dreaded Phantom, he just saw an old, fatally ill man who was barely able to stand on his own feet now and needed all his strength just to stay alive.

They did not even try to pretend not to meet, Raoul would come openly and get Christine after breakfast, only to bring her home in time for lunch. He didn't mind meeting Erik then, Erik was no longer a threat. But he did not gloat at the other man's suffering, he found he could not pity him either for every suffering seemed to be well-deserved punishment.

One day when Raoul was ready to get Christine he noticed that Erik and the Daroga were playing chess. Erik's hands were shaking a bit.  
"Monsieur de Chagny - do you want me to tell something to your brother when I meet him?" Erik asked without taking his eyes off the board.  
Raoul was not sure if Erik was mocking him now. Even Erik would not take his own death that lightly, would he? "You could start with an apology for killing him," he snapped.  
Erik nodded. "I guess if I am going to meet all my victims again after my death I will spend the next umpteenth years with apologizing. No, I meant some personal message I should give him?" Erik was absolutely serious. In his imagination he would be able to deliver the message. He didn't know why, it was just an idea and he was not willing to drop it. It was too comforting to think he might do a little good after his death for it was too late to do it in his life, he was to weak now.

Raoul studied him for a while, then answered: "If it is really possible to deliver a message - tell him I'm sorry for everything I said to him the night before he died."

Erik turned his head slowly, his eyes were closed and he was clearly in pain, but no one could say if it was physical or not. "I see to it," he promised.

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 _A very sad chapter, I know. I hope you like it nevertheless._


	141. Chapter 141

**Madness and Hope**

Despite all his efforts and the rigid discipline Erik lost his strength rapidly. He tried to care for himself but it became more difficult each day. He felt constantly lightheaded and was afraid to fall, so when he had no one to help him walk he was forced to crawl on hands and knees for he would not ask for help when he needed to go to the toilet at night. He was asleep now most time, only in the night he would get up and move around in the livingroom, trying not to disturb anyone. It was the time around 2 a.m. to 5 a.m. - the time his nightmares usually woke him up.

The nightmares were not about him being the victim of others, the nightmares were him witnessing his crimes again and again, trying to stop himself and being unable to do so. It was as if he was a ghost, watching his younger self committing crimes and not being able to do anything about it, no matter what he tried to do. These nightmares left a terrible feeling in him, remorse he had never known before. At daytime it was easier to rest, he did not understand why.

Christine had difficulties too - the additional weight carrying a child caused her not to be able to walk much, she could not reach her own feet, she needed help getting dressed and she needed to lay down every so often for her feet were swollen. But she did not sleep, she spend much of the time reading, sometimes watching Erik who was curled up beside her, always with one hand on her stomach. Sometimes she was under the impression that both of them were confined to their bedroom now and depended on the help of the maid and the Daroga - of course Christine would never let a man help her to get dressed and Erik would never let a woman help him.

Beginning of March was exceptional warm. Spring came early that year.

When Raoul took Christine for a ride in his carriage so she could enjoy the beautiful weather in spring, he noticed that Christine was completely lost in thoughts - from her face he could tell that she was sad.  
"Christine, what is it?" he asked softly.  
"Hmm? O, nothing... I just thought how much Erik always enjoyed going for a walk and now he needs help to get across the livingroom. I wish... I wish he could see how beautiful spring is this year," she answered, then looked at Raoul: "I'm sorry. You are so very kind spending so much time with me and all I think of is Erik. It is not fair, but... Last night he had one of his attacks, we thought he would not survive this time but somehow he regained consciousness."  
Raoul knew better than to ask more. He didn't even want to know what these "attacks" were, but they must be terrible. As far as he understood from what little Christine had told him Erik would suffer convulsions and faint from the pain. When unconscious his breathing sometimes stopped for some time and they would always fear it might not start again. The situation was worsened because he had a cough he could not get rid of.

"Poor Christine," Raoul said and gently caressed her hands, "If it means that much to you - Tomorrow we take him with us for the ride."  
Christine stared at Raoul. "You would do THAT for me?" she asked, tears welling up in her blue eyes, "O Raoul, you are so kind, so caring, so... I do not deserve you!"  
Raoul was tempted to roll his eyes. Of course he did not like the idea of helping Erik - he would gladly have watched that bastard die, but he didn't want Christine to be unhappy. If Christine wanted Erik to have one happy day before he died, one last day in spring, then he would help her.

The next day Christine told Erik that she wanted him to come with them to the Bois de Bolougne, and he refused sadly. "I can't walk that far," he said, "I'm not sure if I would even make it to the street from here."  
"I can't walk that far either," she replied softly, "That's why Raoul would take us in his carriage."  
Erik didn't like the thought of accepting charity from the Comte de Chagny, especially after everything he had done to him. He was sure Raoul did this only for Christine's sake and he didn't want to gain anything from that. But then Christine started describing the flowers and the beautiful weather in spring and how warm it was - Erik highly doubted this, he was freezing while Christine always complained about the heat - and he decided to give in. If it meant so much to her that he would see the park then he would go there and see the damned park, even if he couldn't care less about weather and flowers.

Raoul was surprised when he saw how difficult it was for Erik to walk, but he would not allow the Daroga to simply carry him which would have been much easier. Raoul was surprised that Erik's horrible face did not frighten him any more - this ugly face on a dying man was no longer unusual, especially with the false nose, nor was it frightening. Erik was barely able to move, his breathing shallow and sometimes he coughed, but the cough clearly pained him.  
"I'm not sure this is a good idea," the Daroga stated angrily.  
"I am not dead yet," Erik retorted, his voice but a low whisper, trying to glare at his friend who held him tightly around the waist while offering the other arm for him to hold onto, "And I will not pretend to be dead now. I have enough time to lie in a coffin when I am really dead."  
"Have it your way, you incorrigible, irresposible fool," the Daroga snorted.  
"As always, you careless, stubborn booby!" Their banter was still intact, no matter how painful each step was.

"I'll come with you," the Daroga stated firmly and no one objected. Why would they? Erik could need his help any moment.

During their ride to the park Raoul noticed how Erik winced every time the carriage bumped because of a unevenness in the street - and there were many. Raoul and the Persian sat with their backs to the moving direction, Erik and Christine facing the moving direction. This was necessary to help them not to get sick. Raoul couldn't help noticing the way Erik's hand never left Christine's stomach - even when he tried to pull both hands away, he touched her again at the latest two minutes later, as if he was afraid her swollen stomach might explode any moment now.

It was the Daroga who broke the awkward silence first. "Monsieur de Chagny, I hope you accept my apology. It was certainly not fair how I switched sides without telling you. I do not expect you to understand, but Erik has been my friend for so many years, I could not stay on your side. Erik is... he's like a brother to me, the black sheep of the family, but a brother nevertheless."

Raoul looked up in surprise. He had not expected an apology or an explanation. "I will never trust you, but I bear no grudge. I know what a manipulative bastard he was."  
"Hey, I am still around!" Erik complained and Christine shot Raoul a reproachful glance.

Moments later Erik groaned in pain and doubled up, clutching his left side. The Daroga reached out to steady him in his seat as Christine called out to the driver to pull over and stop. It was only moments, then Erik leaned back again, taking a deep breath as if he had just done exhausting physical exercise, and Christine relaxed visibly. Raoul wondered why Erik did not moan or cry out - he was completely silent when everyone else would at least groan in pain.

They reached the park and a pathway the carriage could slowly drive along. Erik was leaning back, looking out of the window, and he was smiling. They did not need to say much, there was not much to be said. Christine gently leaned against Erik's shoulder, but it was clear that it was not him holding her but her supporting him.

On their way back Erik thanked Raoul with exceptional politeness for the great favor he was doing him, it was clear to both of them that he was not talking about the rather awkward trip to the park. When they got home, Erik was not able to get out of the carriage, the Daroga needed to carry him now and he was in too much pain to object or even think of his dignity. When Erik sat on the couch he looked at Raoul before the young Comte left.  
"Monsieur de Chagny - take care of my girls," he whispered, "be gentle with them, they will need you."  
"You have my word of honour," Raoul replied and tipped his hat.

"And if you want my advise: Never quarrel with Christine. She's too strong, I could never stand up to her, better you don't even try. If you want something from her, give her a puppy-face and beg, this is the surest way to get her to do what you want," Erik went on, winking. Raoul noticed how his head leaned against the backrest of the couch, as if he lacked the strength to hold his own head. But Erik was clearly smiling.  
"I keep that in mind," Raoul said before he left.

Erik turned to Christine, who was instructing Darius and the maid how lunch should be served. "My dear, thank you. Thank you for this wonderful day," Erik said and Christine smiled at him.

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	142. Chapter 142

**Madness and Hope**

After their trip to the Bois Erik was no longer able to walk, he lacked the strength to hold himself upright so he needed the Daroga to carry him when he needed to go to the toilet or wanted to take a bath. Erik did no longer care, he was too weak and in far too much pain to care for pride or modesty. Dr. Raynard came every morning to check on them - and was surprised each day to find Erik still alive and Erik was still able to eat, at least to swallow what Christine fed him. His hands were shaking too much to hold a spoon and he could not eat anything but soup.

Christine took over the duty of helping him eat. She claimed that it was her duty as his wife and she knew how to do it - she had helped her father as well. Erik never refused to eat, but sometimes he fell asleep during his meal. Everything was becoming too much for Erik and it was only a question of time until he would no longer be able to breathe. Christine insisted that he stayed in their bed so, if he needed anything, she would know immediately. It was easy to tell if Erik was asleep or awake, even if he kept his eyes closed for the most time, because he still wanted to touch her stomach, always hoping he could feel his child kicking. When he was asleep he would just lie there relaxed - but lying would be the wrong term. Since he had that cough they had decided it would be easier for him to breathe if he was leaning against a pile of pillows in a half-sitting position. And then there were those terrible fits of pain, when Erik's body was wracked in spasms, coughing and retching, sometimes he was coughing so hard, he could barely draw a breath and they thought he would not survive. These fits always came at night and no one knew why. At daytime Erik could rest peacefully.

It was the beginning of the second week in March when the Daroga was woken up by Erik. He let out a scream as he woke to find Erik's glowing eyes over him in the dark, Erik's hand at his shoulder.  
"Daroga, get Dr. Raynard NOW!" Erik commanded, his voice low but commanding, "The baby is coming." The Persian was too shocked to wonder why Erik was suddenly able to walk again. He jumped out of bed, into his trousers and shoes, grabbed his coat and ran. He would do anything to get away from a woman giving birth.  
Darius wanted to come with him, but the Daroga ordered him harshly to return to Erik and Christine - they might need help. Darius wondered for the first time in his life if it had been a good idea to become manservant or if he should have chosen a different career - like his brother who was a merchant or his cousin who was a soldier, if he was still alive that is.

When Dr. Raynard and the Daroga behind him arrived, Darius embraced him in his relief to be released from his duty to look after a woman giving birth and a man who was close to death. Dr. Raynard gave a brief look to Erik who was lying on the couch in the livingroom, dressed in woolen grey trousers, a white shirt and a woolen grey vest but without any mask to cover his face. Erik was awake and told the doctor to help Christine giving birth to their daughter, he would need no help from any doctor. Dr. Raynard knew this was not true, Erik was in pain but there was nothing he could do as long as this stubborn patient refused to take anything that might ease his pain for fear of losing one precious moment of his life.

Giving birth was relatively easy for Christine, she was young and healthy and Dr. Raynard was pleased to find her having good child-bearing hips. The child was tall but slim and its head was not perfectly round but had a bit an egg-like form, which helped in the birth as well. The child was strong and obviously eager to be born, there was no doubt. This would be one of the shortest births in his career, Dr. Raynard mused, as he left the room shortly when there was a break between the labour pains.

Erik was on his back on the couch, his face contorted as if he was in horrible pain, his hands clutched over his ears to block out her screams. The Daroga sat beside him on a chair, trying to offer a little comfort as Erik continued to mumble a prayer - praying for Christine and the baby to be healthy, praying for forgiveness for causing her so much pain. "As long as she is yelling there is no need to worry," the doctor informed him. Christine had a strong voice and the doctor was quite sure her screams could be heard in the entire quarters, maybe even in the opera house.

Even an unusual easy and fast birth took hours. And then Dr. Raynard opened the door and announced with a happy grin: "Congratulations. It is a girl, mother and child are well."  
That moment the child made itself heard. She was crying like any other baby, but much louder, her voice stronger and more piercing. Even if Erik had been in the catacombs, he would not have missed that cry, it surely woke up everyone in Paris, or so at least the Daroga thought.

Erik tried to get up to go to his wife, but his legs didn't support him and he sank back onto the couch. "Help me," he whispered and the Daroga gently helped him to his feet. Erik swayed a moment, but then he was able to walk to their bedroom on his own, of course with the Daroga's arm to hold onto.

Christine sat in her chair, a tiny bundle in her arms. She was humming softly and the baby made a funny noise as if it was trying to laugh and didn't know how. Christine looked up to see Erik who sat down on the floor beside her. "Erika Victoria," she said and held her so that Erik could see her.

Erik was smiling and crying at the same time when he first saw the baby. It was the most beautiful girl in the world. She had a nose, and a rather large nose for a baby girl that is. She was tall and slim, nearly too tall for a baby girl, and her hands were exceptionally long. She had amber eyes and a bald head except one brown curl. "She's a beauty," Erik whispered overwhelmed as he touched her soft cheek with one finger. The baby looked at his bare face and just looked. She had never seen anything before, so the second face she saw in her life didn't frighten her. Dr. Raynard and the Daroga looked at each other briefly. They both knew the baby girl would never grow up to be a beauty, her bone structure was far too defined, she would have very strong bones, but she would rather look like a boy than a girl. For a girl she would be average looking at best. But of course to her father she was the most perfect child in the world. Dr. Raynard studied her and Erik closely and came to the conclusion that the girl would look like her father might have without his defacement. A sharply accentuated face and a hooked nose, amber eyes, a very pale skin and nut-brown curls, plus very long fingers and feet.

"We should change the sheets on the bed so you can lie down," the doctor said and Darius hurried to do so, happy to have something to keep his mind occupied.

Christine got up and went back to bed, still with the baby in her arms. Erik tried to get up as well and failed again. Dr. Raynard helped him to his feet, discreetly checking his racing pulse. Erik looked up at the doctor and gave him a weary smile, the doctor nodded and helped him to the bed so Erik could lie down beside Christine, the baby between them.

"We should give them a few moments as a family," Dr. Raynard announced and herded the Daroga and Darius out of the room. Then he sat down on the couch and checked his watch. The Daroga gave him a bewildered look. Dr. Raynard shrugged: "They will need me soon." He didn't need to give them more of an explanation.

Erik settled down, watching as Christine fed Erika Victoria. He couldn't get enough of the picture seeing his beautiful girl suckling content on her mother's breast and Christine looked radiant - she was smiling as if she had never known any pain in her life. She was so happy, so full of love. He raised a trembling hand to gently touch Erika Victoria's tiny hand and she grasped his bony index finger and held held onto it as if she would never let go. "She's strong," Erik whispered happily, "She's such a wonderful, beautiful girl. Erika Victoria. I love you so much. Christine... thank you. Thank you for everything." He turned as if he was going to leave the bed.

"Erik, please stay with us," Christine held him back as she placed Erika Victoria between them. The baby yawned and fell asleep.

Erik turned to them, tears falling from his eyes. "I wish I could," he whispered and Christine's eyes went wide as realization hit her that he was not talking just about this moment. "O no, Erik... you... you can't..." she whispered.

"If I had any choice in that..." A cough interrupted him, he needed a few minutes to catch his breath before he went on: "I would stay forever, if I could." His hand came up to gently caress Christine's cheek.

"You can't leave us!" Christine exclaimed.

Erik smiled at her, turned his head slightly to see their daughter. "Christine, my love, you have to let me go," he whispered, "You have to let me go for your sake. Don't live in the past, do not waste your life mourning. Let me go. I am content... please believe me... I have experienced two miracles, I mustn't be ungrateful." His face contorted in sudden worry as he whispered, his voice barely audible: "Let me go."

Christine bent forward to kiss his deformed lips, then gently took their sleeping daughter and placed her on the pillow beside his face so he could kiss her when he turned his head slightly. He kissed the tiny head of his daughter, barely touching her soft skin. She was so soft and so warm, so full of live. Erik settled back on the pillow and gave a content sigh. "I'm so tired," he said, "I'm going to sleep a bit. I love you both." He tried to keep his eyes open but he didn't have the strength to fight any longer. His eyes fell shut and his breathing became even, just like when he was asleep. But the breaks between one breath and the next became longer and longer and finally his chest didn't rise any more.

Christine's scream alerted the doctor and the Daroga, they rushed to help her. She was kneeling on the bed, holding her baby tightly in her arms. Erik was on his back, his eyes closed, completely relaxed, a smile on his face. The doctor checked his pulse, then put a hand over the nostril. There was no breath. He shook his head and turned to Christine: "Madame, I am so sorry."

The Daroga took Erik's lifeless body in his arms and carried him to the other room while Dr. Raynard urged Christine to lie down again, he would sit with her all night to make sure she and the baby would be allright.

~~~ END ~~~

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 _Please do not stop reading now, there will be an EPILOG! Thanks!_


	143. Chapter 143

**Madness and Hope - EPILOG**

The Daroga sent his servant to inform the Comte de Chagny that Erik was dead. Raoul didn't hesitate one moment, he got his best carriage and the best horses and hurried to Christine, she would need him now. Raoul was surprised to find Christine with her baby in her arms.

"O Raoul! It is... it was... he died only moments after she was born..." Christine cried, torn between the joy of having a healthy daughter and the grief for Erik was dead. Raoul took her in his arms and cautiously tried to catch a glimpse at the baby. It was awake and looked at him from big amber eyes. The baby did not look like Christine in the slightest, but it looked like any other baby. Raoul never saw much difference between newborn babies - they only grew to look different when they were walking and able to talk.

"Come with me," he offered and Christine gladly accepted. They could send for the things in the house and Raoul would have his servants get everything and store it in the cellar so Christine could decide what she wanted to keep and what she wanted to give away any time. But he would place the beautiful instruments in the salon, they were too valuable to store them in the cellar.

The funeral was the very next day. Christine wore the black cloak and hat Erik had bought for her. Erika Victoria was left in the care of a nursery maid. Except Christine there was Raoul and the Daroga and of course the cleric who was reading the mass. Erik had prepared everything himself, he had instructed the Daroga that he wanted to be buried in his grey suit with a white mask and his wedding ring. He wanted his pen, the one with the notes on it, in his pocket. Nothing else. The mass was to be as short as possible. Christine noticed that Erik had a plain wooden casket and not his large casket he had used as a bed in his flat beneath the opera house. No headstone, no cross. Just the guardian angel that was already there.

Christine cried as Raoul took her back to his home in the carriage. She missed Erik terribly and wished he was there to see how wonderful his daughter was. Raoul felt relieved. The monster of his nightmares was gone and would never return. They were free now, free to live a normal live, they were free to get married and be a normal family.

* * *

The wedding was in April, far too soon for a proper mourning period, but Raoul wanted to adopt Erika Victoria. He was glad that she was a girl, so there would be no problem passing on his title to his real son, he was sure he would have at least one. He vowed to care for Erika Victoria, but would not love her. No one in the high society of Paris was surprised that Raoul claimed Erika Victoria as his daughter now - everyone suspected him to be the father anyway.

But not love her - there was one very strong-willed person who had other plans and that was Erika Victoria. She adored her father - she thought Raoul her father - and insisted on getting a good night kiss from him every evening. She had her real fathers strong voice and when she cried even the neighbours would hear it through closed windows. So Raoul complied, finding he liked the girl and how she greeted him happily like a puppy would greet it's master when he came home. But he was not prepared for the day in early summer when he came home and found Erika Victoria sitting on top of the staircase - she must have escaped her nursemaid somehow. Raoul rolled his eyes, sighing: "Her father's daughter" and that moment the infant tried to run down the stairs, slipped and fell down.

Raoul rushed to help her, terrified she might be hurt, but she was laughing happily as he took her in his arms. "Papa" she giggled and kissed him, "Papa". Raoul fell in love with the baby girl hopelessly. She was his baby girl now.

Erika Victoria was about two years old when her brother Raoul Charlemagne Phillippe Maria de Chagny was born. She was proud to be the older sister and promised to protect her brother. And that was, what she did - she protected him against everyone and everything, especially the nursemaid trying to discipline him. Erika had a horrible temper and - even so she was just a two years old girl - she frightened the nursemaid with her strength, her temper, her intelligence far beyond her age and her recklessness. But to her brother she was almost overprotective and loving, she could be the sweetest girl and loved to be the center of everyone's attention, she certainly was a little primadonna in her behaviour. Christine wondered how much of Erik's character she had inherited and if Erik would have been like that if he only had had a normal face.

To Christine's disappointment - and Raoul's secret spitefulness - Erika Victoria refused to learn any music instrument or sing. Not that she didn't like music or had not talent for it, she hated to practice and refused to. She would rather sit at the piano for hours, her arms crossed, her jaws clenched, than practice only ten minutes. The more Christine insisted on her learning a music instrument, the more she refused. It turned out that Erika Victoria was even more strong-willed than her mother. When Christine came to Raoul in tears, he tried to comfort her: "My dear, she's four years old. Every girl that age wants a pony, so if I promise her a pony she'll gladly start practicing."

"Any instrument would do," Christine sighed, "But she refuses all music instruments."

Raoul went to Erika Victoria who was just teaching her brother how to move noiselessly and sneak away from the nursemaid. Her father's daughter, Raoul thought, but then she saw him and ran to greet him. "Erika, your mother is upset because you do not want to learn a music instrument," Raoul said gently.

"I am upset because she tries to force me," Erika retorted. Where had the girl learned to talk like this to her parents?

"Maybe we can make a deal," Raoul offered.

"O yes, Papa," Erika was happy.

"You want a pony?" Raoul asked and Erika nodded happily, "Okay, but you have to earn it. If you practice half an hour, four days a week, you get a pony at your fifth birthday."

"Another bargain!" Erika demanded.

Raoul was at a loss. What else could he ask of her? "Okay, my girl, another bargain: You clean the horsestable each day before breakfast, seven days a week. It is a hard and dirty work and in winter you will be cold. But you can always change your mind and learn an instrument instead of doing stable-work."

"Yes, Papa, thank you. And I do not want a small pony, I want a large one, one I can ride when I am grown up too. Ponies can live more than 20 years and in 20 years I will be grown up." Despite her young age she certainly was a little know-it-all.

Christine was furious when she learned of that deal. "You should get her to practice an instrument, not doing stable-work!" she berated her husband.

"Give her one week and she will gladly barter music for stable work."

Raoul was far too optimistic in that. Erika Victoria would do anything to escape the music lessons she hated and Raoul could not even blame her - she was no child prodigy, she was talented, yes, but she had not inherited her father's talent. Christine was pushing her far too hard. Well, Raoul could not help a certain gloating as his son, when offered the same deal, picked violin lessons.

* * *

Raoul and Christine had four sons, and all of them looked up to their overprotective elder sister. She especially protected them against the private teachers. Erika herself learned easily, she needed to hear or see something once and would know it. At the age of twelve she found herself a new game. She would read and learn from books and challenge her teachers in a "who knows more" game. She was only thirteen when she started winning so many of her "who knows more" games that teachers told Raoul they would gladly teach his sons - but never again his daughter! This was no girl, it was a walking encyclopedia and she had most fun when she could prove her superiority over her teachers.

Finally Raoul decided to teach her himself. Teach her something absolutely boring for a girl. Well, what would that be? Dresses and dolls and jewels were nothing to her, she loved her pony and she loved going sailing with her father. In fact, only Erika Victoria loved sailing as much as Raoul did, Christine and their sons were certainly not the adventurous type and rather stayed at the shore. Erika loved the sea, especially when the weather was bad. Raoul tried to teach her bookkeeping and she loved it. She loved how books could be manipulated to pay less taxes. Now her criminal inheritance is breaking through, Raoul mused.

* * *

Erika grew up to be a tall, gaunt woman. She was not beautiful as her brothers who always envied her for she was much taller than they were. Her brothers, all blonde, blue eyed and exceptional good-looking, formed a string quartet while Erika was riding or learning swordplay or sailing with Raoul. He was her hero and she wanted to grow up to be exactly like her presumed father.

Erika was only seventeen when she told her father that she wanted to become a doctor. She wanted to attend to university and become a doctor. Raoul had long given up objecting to her wishes. She had to fight to be admitted to university and many professors thought a woman could never be a physician, so they gave her the most disgusting tasks in necropsy lectures. But the more they tried to get rid of her, the more she was determined to win. It was all a game to her, a battle of minds, she against the professors, and if they had to let her pass a test she considered herself the winner. Until the day when her proud parents sat there and watched her graduation ceremony. She was a doctor of medicine.

* * *

Christine was a bit worried for Erika Victoria was not married and she was already 25 years old. Raoul shrugged it off. If she didn't marry, well, let her. She should be happy, that was all. Her brothers on the other hand turned out to be less interested in studies, they were what Raoul called "real de Chagnys" - flirting with girls at each ball in the city.

Erika frightened away every admirer with her arrogant attitude. When someone really dared to invite her, she insisted on a "nice horse ride" - easily outdistancing every man, or she would ask for a lecture in swordplay, often leaving the admirer himself and not only his pride injured. She finally managed even to get a job as assistant at the medical university, assistant to a professor for psychiatry. Christine nearly fainted when she thought of her poor daughter having to deal with madmen, but Raoul secretly pitied the madmen who had to deal with her as their doctor.

* * *

And then, what no one dared to hope any more, happened. Erika Victoria was 31 years old when she met another assistant at university and immediately decided to marry him. She just went up to his office and told him she wanted him as her husband. The younger man was speechless. A woman he barely knew ordering him to marry her? And a woman from a noble and rich family, that is. He was just a peasant's son and so he didn't know what to say so he kept silent.

"No objections? Good. Next week you meet my parents," Erika Victoria decided. She certainly had her father's talent for creating awkward situations without even knowing it.

* * *

What looked like the worst beginning of any relationship ever turned out to be a good marriage. Christine had told her daughter about her real father shortly before her marriage and Erika just winked and answered: "Papa told me when I was eighteen."

* * *

Christine and Raoul enjoyed being grandparents. Their sons were married and had children and Erika had twins, two boys. Both seemed to have their father's gentle character - as well as his huge appetite and disposition to easily gain weight - but their grandfather's absolute hearing and love for music. Sometimes talent skips a generation.

Christine was an old grandmother, and even great-grandmother, when one night she had a really strange dream. She was in the darkness and saw a warm light. When she came closer to the light two men were sitting at a piano, playing together, one was really tall, he had brown curls and a hooked nose. He smiled at her lovingly as he told the smaller one, who was blonde with blue eyes: "My son, it is too soon. Be patient." Those amber eyes - that was Erik? Christine wondered if it could be him, but when she looked closer, he looked much like Erika Victoria.

"Christine, are you okay?" Raoul asked worriedly as she woke up.

Christine smiled as she looked up at his face with his grey beard. "Yes, everything is perfect."

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 _I did it! I finished before Christmas! :-) Hope you liked my story. Feedback is always welcome!_

 _For those who liked this story: Maybe you care to take a look at my new project "Heart to Heart Conversation"?_

 _One of my fanfics I wrote in German is currently being translated by Igenlode Wordsmith, who does a really great job with that translation, maybe you look at her profile to find "Imprisoned by Fear"._


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